The Clockwork Heart
by Cordite Quill
Summary: Sarah moved on with her life until the goblins come with an SOS message from the Goblin King. Suddenly, she's thrown back into the Underground. She and the Goblin King will have to work together to save it from a corruption that could kill them all.
1. Nightmares and Visitors

**Chapter One: Nightmares and Visitors**

The thing Sarah Williams liked most about herself was that she was a fighter. She never gave up. She couldn't remember a time when she hadn't given something her one hundred percent—and usually her efforts resulted in success. So, when her best friend, Matt Lowery, had dared her into a Guinness chugging contest, she was happy to oblige. She may have already been a little drunk, otherwise she would have balked about spending six dollars on a Guinness only to chug it down.

"You know you can't win," Matt said. He licked his lips and looked at the foamy drink. He was really hamming it up for the rest of their friends. He looked at Tasha Milo and Deidre Hart, the other members of their group, and added, "You guys wanna take bets?"

"No, this is too amusing. I don't want to miss a minute of the action," Tasha said, flipping curly blonde hair away from her eyes and shaking her head. "I can't believe you're going to do it, Sarah. What a waste!"

"You don't want to bet 'cause you're always broke," Matt answered, before Sarah could reply. He turned back to her. "Ready?"

"Bring it, Lowery."

"Oh, it's been brought." Matt laughed. The sound unraveled a little at the end; he was pretty drunk, too. "On three, okay? One…two…" He grabbed the glass and begun chugging.

"Cheat!" Sarah squealed, and then went for it. The drink was thick and delicious, but she could feel it hit her insides like a brick. She kept going—that fighter inside her wouldn't let her back out now. Tasha and Deidre were squealing encouragement, although the cheering was hard to hear over the ear-piercingly loud music in the Irish-themed pub.

Sarah put down her empty glass a few seconds before Matt and laughed in triumph. "I won!" She paused and groaned, clutching her stomach. "And I feel like I ate an elephant. Does beer expand?"

"Guinness isn't beer—it's the world's most perfect food." Matt had a foam mustache. "Want to try again?"

"_No_!"

Deidre laughed. "You both have mustaches!"

Matt and Sarah looked at each other and grinned. At the same time, their tongues licked up the foam from their upper lips, like mirror images. And then they froze and there it was again, that weird half-moment filled with potential. Sarah felt, even in this crowded pub, surrounded by her friends, filled with alcohol, this was a moment that could change everything. If she reached out and touched Matt, she knew that something between them would change. She knew it with every fiber of her being.

The moment hung longer than it should have and she let it pass. The next thing she knew, Deidre was checking her cellphone and sighing about how her boyfriend had sent her another text message and how she really should get back home. They began shuffling around for money and the moment was gone without a hint that it had ever been, except Sarah knew. There were times like that in her life where it seemed she could see her path bisect in front of her and she instinctually knew if she acted a certain way, her life would change.

The very first time she'd felt like that had been with _him_. When he had held out a clear crystal and promised her everything.

Sarah shook her head, pulled out a twenty, and added it to the pile at the center of the table. Outside, they all hugged each other. She only hesitated a moment before she hugged Matt. They were _friends_, she reminded herself. His hug was completely platonic. She was being silly.

When she moved a step away, she stuck her hands in her pockets and said, "We should do this again."

They all agreed and made tentative plans for next week. "Maybe not beer this time," Tasha said. "I'm trying to watch my figure. What about sushi?"

"Sushi sounds good! Derek doesn't like sushi, so I can never go with him," Deidre said.

"Sushi, next week," Sarah agreed. They said their goodbyes. Deidre and Matt would share a cab to the riverside area. Tasha would get another and head to the Westside, the wealthier district. Sarah watched her friends walk away with a warm, fuzzy feeling in the pit of her stomach. She felt content. She didn't even feel that niggling bit of jealousy towards Tasha anymore. The buxom blonde was an actress and her career was beginning to do pretty well. Sarah had given up her thoughts of acting long ago—she just didn't have the talent or patience for it—and had instead devoted herself to another craft. She wrote—so far, mostly short stories and articles that had been published in a slew of magazines. However, she was working on a book. Short stories didn't pay all the bills, though, and she supplemented her income by working part-time at a clothing store.

Deidre and Matt were about as ordinary as Sarah was. Deidre was a nurse and Matt was a graphic designer.

"Come on feet," she muttered and walked the short distance to her studio apartment. It was in a revitalized area which, at one time, had been warehouses. Now, the warehouses had been transformed into chic, bohemian apartments.

The wind was picking up when Sarah arrived at her building. There was cold moisture on the air; a tell-tale sign of a fall storm. She huddled further into her jacket as she opened the door to her apartment building and went into the large, commercial elevator up to her apartment. The landing was small, just big enough for two people to stand side-by-side. She opened her door and stepped into her apartment, locking it behind her, and tossing her clothes onto the floor as she made for the bathroom. She was suddenly exhausted and all she wanted to do was brush her teeth and go to bed. How late was it? Twelve? One?

When she stepped out of the bathroom, she opened the fridge and retrieved the pitcher of cold water she kept. She filled a cup and paused. She'd heard something. Cocking her ear, she listened carefully. It sounded like the walls were chortling and giggling. She put the pitcher back and went to the futon. She put the cup on the side table and said to the air, "Okay guys, I know I smell like booze and cheap perfume, but that's because of the pub. I'm really tired. I don't mind if you want to visit, but don't wake me up, okay?"

The chortling reduced in volume, which she took as a good sign. The goblins liked to visit her. Sometimes, she'd wake up to find them piled about her apartment in little, sleeping heaps. They liked to play Twenty Questions, watch bad soap operas on TV, and go through her sock drawer. Some people might have thought of them as a nuisance—like baby-sitting a bunch of toddlers—but Sarah liked them. They were mischievous, fun, and they made her feel young—like there was still that spark of magic in her world.

_Not that I'm old, _Sarah thought, clicking the futon into its bed position. _Twenty-seven next March… _Boy, was she tired. Beer always made her sleepy after a while.

She retrieved her blanket and pillow, threw them onto the futon, and collapsed happily. She was asleep before she knew it and soon after that, she began to dream.

_She was in a throne room that was oddly familiar and yet different. Something was different. Wasn't the throne room from her memories stark, stony, with a pit for goblins to play in and a marble throne that looked like it hurt to sit in? But here she saw oil lamps hanging from hooks on the wall, giving off a soft glow. Under her feet was a large rug that encompassed most of the room. Along one wall were giant windows that swept from floor to ceiling—right now, the view outside was dark, but she could see a full moon hung in the sky and surrounded by stars. The throne had its back to the window and it was made out of polished, ebony wood with scarlet cushioning._

_She looked around and she felt like she was two people: her dream-self and her normal-self. Her dream-self seemed to be in charge of her movements, yet she could reason with all the knowledge and functionality of her normal, waking self. She wandered around the room, looking every way—looking for someone. Who was she looking for? Well, who else could inhabit a throne room like this? How many kings did she know? It could only be one person and she hadn't dreamed about him in a very long time…_

_Suddenly, the dream _winked_. That was the only word she could give it. It was like a video that had suddenly jumped. One moment she was looking around the throne room, the next moment she was looking at a man with dark hair and handsome features, but a horribly cruel smile._

Crueler than any smile _he _ever gave me, _Sarah thought. _Who is this man?

_Her dream-self seemed to know, because she was backing away, frightened. The back of her legs hit the throne and she fell into it. The man smirked, cornering her, unless she vaulted over the armrests and made a dash for the door. Sarah's muscles bunched, preparing to leap to the side._

"_And this story ends as a tragedy," the man said. He drew out a beautiful sword from his scabbard. Sarah watched the movement, aghast and afraid. The sword had an intricately curving hand guard that looked like stylized wind spiraling around. There was a jewel in the hilt, carved in a shape that she strained to identify._

_Her dream-self was shuddering in fear, paralyzed by it. "No…" she whispered, watching the man draw back. "NO!"_

_He plunged the sword into her, impaling her. Pain erupted through her and she arched her back instinctually, feeling the sword exit the opposite side. She heard the dull _thunk _as the sword embedded into the throne._

Sarah awoke with a gasp and her hands immediately went to her chest, where the sword had sliced through her heart. She pulled up her shirt, checking her skin. The dream had been so life-like, the pain so intense, that she half expected the wound to be there. Instead, her fingers skipped over unmarred flesh.

"Oh god," she said, her voice hitching in a sob. "Oh god, that was horrible." She drew her knees up and rested her sweaty, cold forehead against them. She shuddered a little, and it took many long minutes before the terror of the dream began to dissipate. Only then could she think about it.

She could still feel the echoes of pain. What a nightmare! But just that, she reminded herself, just a nightmare. She would have taken a dream of _him_—a dream of remembered glances, unanswered questions, and frustrated riddles—over a dream where she was run through by a sword.

_The sword. _She frowned, feeling the movement against her knees. The sword had been so detailed. She could still see the cold steel, the sweeping ornamentation of the hand guard, and the blood-red jewel. Suddenly, something clicked in her mind and she realized what the jewel had been carved as. Inverted horns in a semblance of a triangle. She'd seen such a shape before, but it had been a pendant and it had hung around _his _neck.

_But, the man in my dream didn't look like… _Her thoughts were cut-off by a whispering sound. She had been focusing so much on her dream that she hadn't looked around the apartment but now she did. Her apartment was jam-packed with goblins and they were all looking at her.

Shivers ran up and down Sarah's spine. _This is creepy, _she thought.

As far as Sarah could tell, goblins never looked the same. Even in this room, where there had to be at least fifty of them—probably more, since some where balanced on others' shoulders—no two goblins looked alike. Some were skinny, others stout; some wore makeshift hats out of things like pots or colanders; some had warty skin and some had smooth skin; some had green-colored skin, some had brown-colored skin, and some had blue-colored skin. She slowly scanned the room and opened her mouth to ask them what they all wanted, but the words died in her throat. They were looking at her so _intensely_; she really wished they'd stop. She felt self-conscious. She felt like touching her face and making sure everything was still there. She also felt like telling them to go away so she could try sleeping again.

There was a small space around her futon, as if they didn't want to come too close to her. Slowly, one goblin, who was a very small fellow with a sauce pan for a hat and pants made out of burlap and skin the color of stagnant water, came forward. He had something hidden behind his back. He jumped onto the sofa table and drew forward what he was hiding.

Sarah gasped. It was a perfect crystal. The goblin had to hold it in two hands. He offered it to her. It caught the light coming in from the window and sparkled.

Sarah thought, _It's a crystal. Nothing more._

In Sarah's mind she heard a voice from her memories say in a silky tone: _"But if you turn it this way and look into it, it will show you your dreams."_

_

* * *

_

Oooh, cliffhanger! :) I got this idea while working on my own work and just HAD to try it out. This is my first fanfic, I admit. The exercise gets a lot of creative juices flowing. I think I will update soon, no worries. -_CQ_


	2. SOS

**Chapter Two: SOS**

_Wait one second, _Sarah thought. She realized her hand had been automatically sneaking forward, reaching for the crystal. She jerked it back. The goblin gave her a look that, if she didn't know better, she'd have described as disappointed. _Why are the goblins offering me a crystal? Why isn't he here?_

Although they were all still there, some of the goblins were looking bored. Sometimes Sarah had wondered if being a goblin meant perpetually suffering from ADD. Their attention span was abysmal. Already, some of the goblins were turning away, finding other things to amuse them. She spotted one goblin pluck a carnation out of the blue vase she kept on the kitchen counter and start eating it.

Bored goblins were dangerous—fifty or more bored goblins smacked of disaster just waiting to happen. She turned back to the little goblin who still offered up the crystal. She cleared her throat and she felt all those eyes focus on her again.

"So…um, what's that for?" she asked, indicating the crystal.

"It's for the Lady," the little goblin said, his voice high-pitched and extremely cute. He gave her the biggest puppy dog eyes ever and Sarah nearly melted right there.

_Focus! _She thought. _This could be a trick of some kind. _

"Right, but why are you giving it to me? Where's…where's the Goblin King."

"Not here," the little goblin answered. The other goblins nodded.

Sarah sighed. They probably thought they were being helpful. "Well _obviously _but—oh, never mind. Is this crystal a gift?"

"No, SOS," the goblin said.

"SOS…" the others murmured.

Sarah felt chills run up and down her spine again. "What do you mean?"

"That what Boss Man said," another goblin from the crowd piped up. Sarah cast her gaze around, looking for the source, but she couldn't find it. Maybe somewhere near the bathroom door.

"Yeah. He said, 'SOS,' that what he said," another goblin said. "I heard it! He said Lady had to come quick. SOS means _quick_."

"Quick? Like now?" But even as she said this, Sarah felt something in her stiffen with resolve—a decision had been made. Or maybe there was no decision to begin with, the answer had always been there, which was a rather disturbing realization that could have a whole bunch of connotations—none she wanted to think about at the moment.

"Now! Now!" the goblins were saying. A few of them were hopping up and down.

One goblin hopped on another's foot. The injured goblin grabbed his appendage and shouted, "OW!" He began hopping around. This seemed to encourage the others. They began jumping, which led to stepping on each others' toes, which meant more yells of "OW!" and more hopping.

Sarah was getting dizzy just watching them. "Stop! All of you, go back to the Labyrinth. You all don't need to be here."

The goblins slowly stopped jumping around. Sarah hoped the downstairs neighbors were deep sleepers. "Will Lady come?" a goblin said.

"Yes, please come back, Lady!"

"Please!"

"Yes, yes, I will," Sarah answered. "I just need to get some stuff together and put some clothes on." Although she was only wearing panties, her knees were drawn up to her chest, which obscured the view.

Slowly, the goblins began moving backwards. It was interesting watching them; they moved unlike anything Sarah had ever seen before. They twitched with energy. Their movements were sloppy and hurried; the polar opposite of their elegant king. The goblins melted into the shadows and simply weren't there anymore. Soon, only the little goblin with the crystal remained.

Sarah wrapped the blanket around her and got up. She felt dizzy and had to sit back down before trying again. Even though she felt more sober than she had when she went to sleep, the alcohol wasn't completely out of her system. She turned her back to the goblin and began shuffling around in her dresser, which was also her TV stand.

"What's your name, little guy?" she asked the goblin.

"Mort."

"Mort." Sarah tried the name out and decided it fit him. The goblin had such big, soulful eyes and little, cute features. "Is that short for Mortimer?"

"Mort," the goblin said again, with more emphasis this time.

"Apparently not," Sarah muttered to herself. She put on a bra, then pulled two T-shirts from the dresser. One with a soft floral design she pulled over her head. The other she tossed onto the futon. Soon after, some underwear and bras followed the shirt, and then an extra pair of jeans. Who knew what kind of SOS message this was? Maybe she'd need to go through the Labyrinth again. In her previous adventure in the Labyrinth, there were a few times she'd wished she had been more prepared. Now was her chance.

She pulled on a pair of Capris, then grabbed a backpack and stuffed all the clothes into it. She added a personal sized flashlight she found in her desk, a pad of paper and a pen, a marker (_Just in case I need to mark my path again, _she thought), her wallet, a Swiss army knife, her sunglasses, and a few Granola bars she found in the kitchen cabinets. She probably wouldn't need everything and she probably would find she needed things she hadn't brought—the Labyrinth had a way of making a person feel unprepared.

"Okay, I'm ready," Sarah said, shouldering the backpack and facing Mort.

Mort held the crystal up again and said, "Lady come to the Labyrinth."

_Here goes nothing, _Sarah thought. Her fingers itched with the desire to touch the smooth surface of the crystal. She wiped a sweaty palm on her pants and slowly reached for it. The globe was cold under her fingertips.

Nothing happened.

Sarah looked around, nervously. _Well, that was anti-climactic—_

_WHOOSH_. The sound of rushing wind filled her ears and her world became a kaleidoscope of colors. Her sense of balance was thrown, as if she was standing on a moving ship, and she staggered but managed to keep upright.

_Oh god, oh god, the Guinness! _She thought, feeling it rise in her stomach like a levitating stone. _I'm going to blow like Old Faithful!_

The colors faded back into normal scenery. Sarah looked around desperately, taking only the cursory view in. Dimly, she noticed there was now daylight. She was on a cobblestoned pathway. There was grass on either side. She was on a mission to find—ah, there it was. A few feet away were some bushes; they'd have to do. Dropping her backpack, she sprinted to them and made it just in time to spew the contents of her stomach. The grass was soft on her hands as her stomach heaved and she gagged. Ugh, it tasted horrible the second time around.

When she was done, she went back to her backpack and found a bent stick of gum in one of the pockets. She stuffed it into her mouth and sighed in relief.

"That," an all-too-familiar voice said, "has to be the most unappetizing, disgusting thing I have seen."

_Oh, you have got to be kidding me, _Sarah thought, freezing with her backpack mid-way to her shoulder. Slowly, dreading what had to happen next, she pivoted on her foot.

Standing there, with his hands on his hips and his head cocked slightly to one side, was the infamous Goblin King. He was wearing all black, from his billowy cloak to his leather pants. Even his boots matched. His hair was just like she remembered it—except that in the sun it sparkled like gold. She didn't remember _that_ part. He arched his eyebrows and Sarah wanted to laugh at the irony of it. It had been more than ten years. He was still beautiful, elegant, and graceful. And she'd just puked into the bushes.

"Hi again," Sarah said. "Long time no see."

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

I know this chapter is short, but I wanted to leave it with Sarah embarrassing herself in front of our favorite Goblin King. (I know, I'm cruel) :) The next chapter will be longer.

Please review, let me know how I'm doing. :)

**Disclaimer:**

This probably goes without saying, but I do not own anything in regards to the Labyrinth. The only things that are mine are my original characters.


	3. Corruption in the Labyrinth

**Chapter Three: Corruption in the Labyrinth**

_I suppose this is just my luck, _Sarah thought. Her whole face was flushed. She was so embarrassed. She couldn't believe she'd just upchucked in front of the Goblin King. It was almost like seeing an ex-boyfriend while wearing mismatching socks, ripped jeans, a stained shirt, _and _with a huge zit on one's nose. Sarah wanted to pinch herself to make sure she wasn't having another nightmare.

The Goblin King said, "Are you ill? Perhaps I should have given the goblins more instruction. If you have some sort of disease, you'll be of little use to me."

Sarah's mouth gaped open. Anger pushed the embarrassment aside. _Little use to him? Little use! The bastard! If I was closer, I'd kick him in the shin, _Sarah thought, ignoring the little voice in her mind that reminded her that she was twenty-six years old and she didn't kick people in the shin—she should just punch him instead. That was much more mature.

"I'm not diseased!" Sarah finally said. "I just had a lot of beer in my stomach and your goblins didn't warn me that teleporting would feel like being on a ship during a storm. What the hell do you want? The goblins said you told them 'SOS,' but by the look of you, you're just _fine_."

"Well, 'SOS' is a simplistic message, I agree," the Goblin King said. "However, the goblins have difficulty with anything more than a few words. I thought I would make the message as short as possible to reduce any likelihood of mistakes."

"So, what do you want?"

The Goblin King carefully looked her up and down, walking around her. Sarah tugged at her shirt self-consciously. Why was he being so aloof and cold? _No, wait, he was always aloof and cold, right? _Sarah shook her head and said, "What are you doing? Are jeans not good enough for an _audience _with the Goblin King or something?" Her voice was dripping with sarcasm, which was more a defense mechanism. He was making her feel off-balance.

"Well, tradition usually does say an audience with a king requires formal attire, but actually I was noticing that you look older than I remember. Has it been so long Aboveground?" he said.

Sarah frowned. Did he sound almost wistful? "Um, eleven years have passed. Why? How long has it been here?" Sarah always suspected that the time flowed differently between the two worlds. She'd had a long time to think about her adventure; a long time to come up with questions that she had no way of answering—until now. Maybe she could have a nice chat with the Goblin King.

The Goblin King shrugged. "Time is of less consequence for me. I suppose the years have gotten away from me—they have a tendency to do that. However, I find this development reassuring. Perhaps you'll be a little more reliable now."

Sarah gritted her teeth against the hot flash of anger that swept over her. Had she really been thinking of _chatting _with him? The man was a complete egotistical bastard! Having a conversation with him was probably like pummeling oneself with a hammer. She searched the ground for the crystal she'd been holding. She'd dropped it along with her backpack, however now she couldn't see it anywhere.

"What are you doing?" The Goblin King asked. He sounded weary, like he was watching someone unstable who may fly off the handle at any moment.

"I'm looking for the crystal. I'm going home," Sarah said. "This is bullshit. I think I've been _very _accommodating so far, but you've just been a big snob with a stick up your butt." Sarah glanced up and to her utter frustration, she saw that the Goblin King looked _amused_. She gritted her teeth and muttered under her breath as she turned on her heel and begun walking away, scanning the ground as she walked, "For a King he has _no _manners. I said 'hello' at least. Insulted me twice and he's the one that dragged me out of bed with his stupid crystal and his stupid goblin with the puppy dog eyes. Probably chose Mort on purpose."

"Sarah—" the Goblin King called. He didn't sound contrite at all, so she ignored him.

She threw up her hands. "Where the heck is that crystal?"

"Which crystal?" Sarah jumped and looked up. The Goblin King was somehow in front of her. "Perhaps this one?" He twisted his wrist and a crystal ball was perched on his fingertips. "Or perhaps you would like this one? Or maybe this?" More crystals appeared in his hand and he rotated them around. They made soft tinkling noises as they rubbed against one another. The sun glinted off them, dazzling Sarah momentarily.

The Goblin King leaned forward, twirling the crystals from one hand to another, faster and faster. Sarah wasn't sure how many he actually juggled.

Sarah took a step back. "Stop," she said. "Stop mocking me, Jareth." She was a little disappointed in the Goblin King. It felt like they had fallen right back into the same roles from eleven years ago. He was the villain and she was—what? She didn't feel like the heroine and she definitely wasn't fifteen anymore.

The Goblin King froze, a strange expression on his face. Before Sarah could analyze what the expression meant, it was gone. Then he tossed the crystals into the air one by one, where they popped like soap bubbles.

Encouraged by this, she decided to try one last time. "So," she said, "_why _am I here?"

"Ah, well…I require your assistance," the Goblin King said. He wrinkled his nose, like admitting that he needed her help left a sour taste in his mouth. "It is a small thing you must do, but unfortunately no one else but you can do it. There is a…strange plant that is growing in the Labyrinth. It has never grown here before. I need you to look at it."

"You brought me all the way here to look at a _plant_?" Sarah's voice raised a few octaves at the end. She forced herself to take a few deep breaths. "You know, I should warn you that I have a horrible, brown thumb. Linda and my Dad once went on vacation to the Grand Canyon and Linda brought back a potted cactus for me. I killed it within a week. I killed a _cactus_."

" 'Brown thumb', I haven't heard the expression before. But, don't worry. If my guess is correct, I don't want these plants to actually grow. If you can kill them with your 'brown thumb,' all the better."

Sarah frowned. "You _don't _want it to grow? What kind of plant is it?"

The Goblin King hesitated, then smiled and to Sarah's confusion and fascination, the smile was actually _flirty_. It kind of looked like a smirk, but the way it caused his eyes to glitter seemed to hold possibilities that Sarah really didn't want to think about. She'd blushed enough for one day. He indicated over her shoulder and said, "Wouldn't you like some refreshments, Sarah? Or to rest and refresh yourself?"

Sarah glanced over her shoulder and then slowly pivoted. Looming over them was the castle. Because of the sun's position, the shadow didn't fall over them, which was one reason Sarah hadn't noticed she was so close to the Castle Beyond the Goblin City. The other had been because of the whole Guinness-spewing-out incident and then the Goblin King had taken her attention. It was hard not to be distracted around him; something about him demanded a person's complete attention.

The castle didn't look as imposing or dingy as it had eleven years ago. There was a single, ivory tower that seemed to grow from the pot-bellied castle like a strange growth. It was slightly twisty, as if the goblins had built it. The castle looked lopsided, but imposing.

Sarah shook her head. "No, I think we should finish this business now. Maybe I can go home in time for breakfast then."

The Goblin King's smirk disappeared and he hesitated, but then he inclined his head and said, "As you wish. I'm afraid we'll have to teleport again. Usually, I would just fly there in my owl form, but you cannot do the same. Do you think you can handle another teleport?"

"I guess there's just one way to find out," Sarah said, cheerfully. "Of course, if you try anything funny, Goblin King, I will have no qualms about puking on your boots." She eyed the expensive, black leather boots he wore. They were even polished to a glittering sheen. "And that would be such a pity."

The Goblin King's eyebrow arched and he grinned. "Duly noted." He held out a crystal ball.

Sarah hesitated. _Well, I agreed to this, didn't I? _She thought. She sighed and touched the top of the crystal. Her pinkie brushed against the Goblin King's gloved thumb. Her eyes met his and then the world broke out in the kaleidoscope of colors—again. Her world rocked back and forth and she struggled to keep upright.

"_Calm down, Sarah. Just focus on breathing, this will pass quickly." _His voice was satin-smooth inside her mind.

Sarah gritted her teeth and screwed her eyes shut, blocking out the colors. Her stomach rolled and bucked. "Get out of my head, Goblin King," she hissed.

She heard soft laughter, but nothing more.

The ground had stopped shaking and she opened her eyes to see they were in front of a thick forest that swept across the horizon. Except in front of the forest, littering the soft, green fields were large, thorny stalks that ended in tight, small leaves. The stalks were each at least eight feet and the thorns were as big as her pointer finger and the tips were crimson-colored.

Sarah clutched her stomach and waited for the nausea to pass. The Goblin King stood nearby, looking bored, but he said, "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I guess it isn't surprising that teleporting makes me feel sick. I visited New York once and going on the ferry ride to the Statue of Liberty made me seasick." Sarah breathed shallowly through her mouth and closed her eyes again. The nausea eased and she straightened, scrubbing a hand over her face. She felt tired. Well, she hadn't slept much before the goblins interrupted and all this teleporting wasn't helping either. Better to get this done with so she could collapse back in her warm, comfortable bed.

"Let us go, then," the Goblin King said, walking towards the nearest stalk.

_It's a shame that after so many years, our reunion is like this, _Sarah thought, glancing at the Goblin King. She followed behind him and her gaze swept across his back. He had broad shoulders and his hair moved slightly in the breeze. His stride was confident and long; it took her two steps to equal his one. Her gaze dipped down and settled on his backside. _Nice view. I couldn't appreciate this when I was fifteen._

What did she expect the Goblin King to be like, though? She'd never really been fixated on him—she'd never really known him at all. As she'd grown up, her daydreams of him had become fewer, she'd grown and matured and became busy in her own life. And, in truth, she really hadn't expected he'd keep in touch—she hadn't left on such good terms, refusing him and all—so she wasn't surprised or disappointed when his face had never been in her mirror. She'd spoken many times to Hoggle, Ludo, and Didymus in her mirror—and then over the years these visits had become less frequent until they finally stopped. And then, only the goblins remained.

_I wonder what he'd say if I told him I'd had a bit of a crush on him through high school? _She wondered, amused. _Probably say something egotistical like, "But of course." _The crush had faded when she moved onto college, only curiosity had remained, and she found herself wondering things about the ruler of the Underground. What would it be like to just _talk _to him?

_I doubt he'd just talk to me, _Sarah thought.

The Goblin King stopped so suddenly that Sarah nearly ran into him. She moved to his side and looked at the stalk. This close, the shadow fell over half of her face. She shivered and rubbed her arms.

"This is the plant?"

"Yes."

"It's ugly." Sarah looked it over. The skin looked tough and almost like bark. The leaves were on weak branches that grew out of the stalk closer to its top. The thorns, however, dotted its entire length, and they looked wicked. The whole plant looked _ominous._

"Yes." Sarah looked at the Goblin King, surprised at the level of anger in his voice. He swept his hand along the whole plain and Sarah followed his gaze. Along the horizon was the forest, but before that were green, rolling hills and the occasional tree. The sky was a deep blue with a few puffy, white clouds. There was complete silence and although Sarah saw a single, dirt road meandering in the distance, there were no other signs of life besides them. It was lonely but beautiful—except for the stalks. They seemed to have erupted from the ground and there were the greatest number of them close to the forest line, but there were also a few marring the green hills.

"These abominations have been riddling my kingdom of late," the Goblin King said, "and I find that I cannot sense anything from them."

"What do you mean?"

The Goblin King shook his head and looked at his palms. "I don't know…I just don't know." Sarah gaped at him. This was a rare show of confusion and vulnerability from him. It shocked her and…frightened her. The Goblin King wasn't supposed to look like that, he was supposed to be wicked and cruel, yet sexy and forbidden. He seemed to feel the weight of her gaze, because he stiffened and his shoulders straightened. The confused, vulnerable look was gone. "However, I have a _theory_ and there's only one way to test it. Sarah, could you please touch the plant?"

"Um…I don't know about this," Sarah said, eyeing the plant.

"It won't bite."

"Well, it doesn't look particularly _nice_ either and if there's one thing the Labyrinth's taught me is that nothing is as it seems," Sarah said.

"Sarah, _please_. I must know and I cannot unless you tell me."

Sarah turned towards him to ask—no, demand—what exactly he had to know. Why did he have to speak in half-truths? Was it so hard to just say what he was thinking instead of being so damn cryptic? But then a thought occurred to her: _You don't trust him. He doesn't trust you either. _

Sarah sighed. So he thought that telling her only little bits and pieces of information made it less likely that she would refuse his request? Whatever. She didn't care. If touching some scary looking plant would get her back home faster, so be it. She belonged back at home; seeing the Goblin King had made her realize that. Any curiosity or mild interest she had about him would have to go unsatisfied because the truth of the matter was they couldn't be friends.

"Fine, whatever," she said, "I'll touch the stupid plant."

She scanned the stalk looking for an area thorn-free and large enough for her hand. Finally, she settled on a space and leaned forward, twisting her wrist slightly to avoid a thorn. The pads of her fingertips touched the stalk.

Sarah gasped and her eyes widened, but she wasn't seeing the stalk anymore. She was _feeling _so intensely it wiped out her vision.

_PAIN._

_RUIN._

_**MALICE.**_

The plant was evil. It seemed to swirl with ugly, horrible emotions and it pushed them all _at _her and seemed to delight in her pain. She felt like all those horrible emotions were crafted into a stake and it was being driven through her head. The plant's roots reached deep, going through the soil of the Labyrinth and back…back…to what? The plant wouldn't let her look, it wanted only to hurt her; it kept driving her back, making her mind curl up against the onslaught.

The plant seemed to sense her. She felt it gathering and a consciousness turned towards her. Distantly, Sarah heard her breath hitch into a sob. That consciousness was as bright as a tiny sun and it was locked on her. It was _looking _at her…

Suddenly, Sarah was jerked free. Her knees gave out and she felt someone grab her and hold her upright.

_Someone? _She thought, dazed. _There's only one other person here…_

Her vision cleared and she was staring at the Goblin King's chest. His arms were around her, holding her upright. He was warm and comforting, especially in the aftermath of what she'd just felt. She looked up into his face. He met her eyes, then looked away guiltily. He gently released her. She couldn't stand just yet so she simply slid to the ground and stared at the stalk, shuddering.

"I'm sorry. Perhaps I should have warned you." To her surprise, he sounded contrite. "My theory has proved correct."

Sarah took a shuddering breath. "What the _hell_ was that? Oh my god, I've never _felt _anything like that…I've never…I mean…so much _malice_." Nothing like that had ever happened to her before; her poor mind was floundering for something familiar to compare the experience to, but it was coming up with a blank. She'd never felt emotions when touching a plant, she'd never felt such negative emotions in one place, and she'd never felt a consciousness other than her own in her mind, not even when the Goblin King had been talking to her during the teleportation.

She was still completely out of it, so she nearly jumped out of her skin when the Goblin King knelt in front of her. "I'm afraid," he said, as he took his gloves off with sharp, quick movements, "that it seems like you have a skill of mine."

"What do you mean?" The plant was momentarily forgotten as she watched the Goblin King pull off his gloves. As he shed them, his long, pale fingers were revealed.

"I do not wear these gloves for decoration—well, not completely." He gave her a half-smile, looking into her eyes from underneath the fringe of his hair. "Magic in its purest form is a neutral power, however a caster can give magic a…flavor, much like flavoring water with a slice of lemon. A caster whose intent is negative and harmful—and who is filled with negative emotions—will flavor the magic negatively. A person who has no malice or does not use the magic for malice will flavor it positively. My touch has always been sensitive and I can _feel _magic. When the magic is flavored one way or another, I feel that as well—or I did. It seems you have that ability now."

Sarah shook her head. "I don't understand."

"You are simply feeling the magic in these plants and, by the sounds of your reaction, they are corrupted just as I thought—"

"No, no, I get _that_. Good person equals good magic, bad person equals bad magic—"

"Well, that's simplifying it, but yes—"

"What I want to know," Sarah continued, "is _why_ am I sensitive to it?"

"Ah, well it seems you have my power—please hold out your hands." Sarah frowned, but she did as she was told, holding her hands out with the palms facing upwards. The Goblin King deftly tugged the gloves onto her hands. Sarah froze, feeling his hands slide over hers, then feeling the soft leather of the gloves, warmed by his hands. He gave the cuffs a quick jerk, making sure they were properly on her. The gloves fit as if they had been specially tailored for her, despite the fact that a moment earlier he had been wearing them. The Goblin King paused, his fingers lightly resting on the back of her hands. "I wonder if this is the only talent I have lost to you?"

"Is it because I ran the Labyrinth and won?" Sarah said, her voice barely above a whisper because she was half-afraid of the answer.

The Goblin King's fingertips lightly grazed the back of her hands as he withdrew his own. She could feel his touch through the leather. He sat back and said, "Perhaps."

_There's more to it than that, _she thought. _He's not telling me everything. _Her mind whispered to her and a memory shivered and came to the forefront. A book with a red leather cover…

…_given certain powers…_

Sarah jerked her mind away from the memory. She didn't want to think about it. _I have this power that is his, _she thought. _Do I want such an intimate connection like that?_

Sarah licked dry lips and said, "So, um, how do I give this…this 'talent' back to you?"

The Goblin King gave that small, half-smile. She was beginning to recognize it and notice how the smile, when he gave it, never reached his eyes. "I'm afraid I do not know."

"Oh." There wasn't much she could say about that. She glanced at the plant and said, "So, is the plant conscious or is it—was it planted here by someone else?"

"You say 'consciousness', did you feel something?"

"It was like the plant suddenly…woke up," Sarah said, trying to explain the sensation of having something ride all those negative emotions, notice her, and tentatively reach out to try and touch her mind. "It noticed me. But, the roots went very far back and I got the feeling…well, it was like the consciousness went very far back, as well."

The Goblin King stood and helped Sarah to her feet. "These plants have appeared only in the last year or so, and where these plants are dead places appear. If I apply fire, the plant will die, only to have more grow elsewhere. If I apply magic, the plant seems to thrive on it. If I were to guess, I would say someone is trying to suck the life out of my kingdom."

"The Labyrinth?"

"The Labyrinth is only a portion of the Underground." The Goblin King paused. "Thank you for your help Sarah. If you had not touched the plant, my suspicions would not have been confirmed. Not only that, but you felt that consciousness, which has proved valuable information."

"Oh, no problem, glad to help." Sarah made a dismissive gesture. She dusted off her jeans, thinking it was time to ask to go home. She straightened, the question on her tongue, but the expression on the Goblin King's face stopped her.

His face was stormy with emotions and his mismatched eyes were focused over her head. Sarah turned and sucked in a breath. At the horizon line, above the forest, were the darkest, angriest storm clouds Sarah had ever seen. They were nearly black, full with moisture, and already she saw flashes of lightning inside them. They were rolling across the sky at a frightening pace.

Sarah looked back at the Goblin King. He flicked his wrist. The gesture was familiar, he'd done it before when conjuring the crystals, but this time nothing happened. He looked at his hand as if it had betrayed him somehow and made the gesture again, but once again nothing happened.

Now the clouds were close enough that Sarah could hear the rumble of thunder.

The Goblin King cursed and said, "That storm is not natural. It seems to be dampening my abilities—a rolling, magical dead zone."

"What do we do?" Sarah paused. "You…you can turn into an owl."

The Goblin King shook his head. "If I could transform, I would be caught in the maelstrom in a form that would be very vulnerable to it. Besides, I asked you to come here and I will not leave you here." He hesitated, scanning the landscape, and seemed to come to a decision. "We cannot be caught out in the open. I also don't like the idea of being near these plants. I suggest we run for the forest. The cover may provide shelter."

"A-Alright," Sarah said.

The thunder rumbled and Sarah cried out, surprised by the volume of it. She could feel the sound in her bones. She clapped her hands over her ears and huddled down against the noise. When it passed, she straightened. The world had darkened; the clouds were now above them.

"We will need to run," the Goblin King said. "Are you ready?"

"Yes." Sarah bunched the muscles in her legs, poised and ready.

"_GO!_" The Goblin King surged forward, graceful even as he ran at full tilt.

_I'm not going to keep up with him, _Sarah thought as she struggled to keep pace behind him. A flash of lightning bisected the sky and then Sarah felt warm raindrops against her skin.

Fear gripped her as she sprinted towards the forest, keeping the Goblin King's back in her sights.

* * *

Thank you for all the wonderful reviews! (Glad you guys were amused about the whole Guinness-spewing-fiasco. Yeah, I know, upchucking in front of the Goblin King is NOT the kind of impression you want to make...but I was giggling while I wrote it. ;))

**CoffeeKris:** It may not be exactly what you guessed would happen next, but I hope it was entertaining nonetheless. :P

**KissxTemptationx:** The beginning of "The Clockwork Heart" was actually inspired by real life events. Mostly the fact that a friend of mine dared me to chug a whole pint of Guinness and...I won by a mile. And then I felt like I'd eaten an elephant and a giraffe and they were playing ping-pong in my belly. ;)

I'm glad to see that you guys are enjoying it so far. The plot has thickened, no? I didn't plan for it to be _this_ long, but I suppose it's fitting since it's going to be a few days till the next update.

Please keep the reviews coming! They're wonderful encouragement and feedback -- they make me feel all squishy-happy-fuzzy inside. :) -_CQ_

**The Fine Print:** I do not own the Labyrinth and the characters of that universe. The only thing I lay claim to are my original characters within this story.


	4. The Tree at the Heart of the Forest

**Chapter Four: The Tree at the Heart of the Forest**

Sarah's chest ached. Every shuddering breath seemed to burn her lungs. Her mouth was dry and she felt light-headed.

There was a deafening clap of thunder and then the raindrops began to fall in earnest, pelting her skin so hard it was almost painful.

"Jareth!" she yelled. "Wait for me!"

He didn't seem to hear her over the storm, and the next instant he disappeared into the forest. Fear gripped Sarah's heart and gave her a burst of speed. She entered the forest and saw the Goblin King twist around some trees and disappear from her sight. Sarah ran after him, but while he had gracefully maneuvered around the hulking trees, she was not as lucky. Her foot snagged on a root and she went down, managing to catch her fall on her hands and knees at the last minute. When she looked up, she was alone.

Sarah sighed and rolled over so she was sitting on the wet ground. The wetness didn't bother her—the rain was falling so hard that she was already soaked. Her clothes were muddy from her fall, so a muddy spot on her butt didn't bother her, either. She looked at her hands and winced at the scrapes, some oozing a little blood. She wiped her hands on her jeans and licked the wounds, flinching at the pain.

Finally, she pushed herself back to her feet and swiped at her wet hair. It was sticking to her face and neck. The rain was bitterly cold. Sarah rubbed her arms, trying to get back some warmth, as she scanned the forest.

The trees grew close together and every bit of the forest looked like every other bit. She couldn't see the Goblin King—or anyone else, human or animal. The rain pounded against the leaves making a noise almost as loud as the thunder. Sarah yelled, "Hello? Anyone there?" and "Goblin King? Oh Jareth, where are you?" before she gave it up as hopeless. Thanks to the noise from the rain, unless someone was standing right next to her, it was unlikely they'd hear her shouts. She'd just have to try finding the Goblin King herself—or maybe find some shelter, wait out the storm, and hope he would find _her_.

Sarah always felt better when she had a plan. Even now, the fear that had been squeezing her heart lifted and she stuck out her chin in a very determined way—something that hadn't changed in the eleven years since she last had wandered Underground. She'd managed running the Labyrinth just fine. Walking in a forest would be a piece of cake in comparison. She picked a random direction and set off at a brisk pace.

Sarah walked for what felt like hours, until her feet began to hurt and her shoulder was sore from the weight of her backpack. The rain continued. Sarah was half-numb and her teeth were chattering from the cold. Since the rain clouds blocked out most of the light, the forest was dark, so she had dug out the flashlight to keep from tripping over roots. Because she was shivering so hard, the beam of light twitched erratically, which meant it wasn't very helpful. In fact, it was because of her shivers and the jumping light that she didn't see the ground dip into a tiny ravine. One moment, she was walking perfectly fine and the next moment her foot stepped out into nothingness. With a cry, Sarah lost her balance and went sliding down the muddy slope feet first.

She tried to stop herself, reaching to try and grab anything for purchase, but her fingers dragged over the ground, brushing against dead leaves and little more. The ground kept falling away in muddy clumps, encouraging her sliding. Finally, Sarah threw up an arm in front of her face to protect her eyes. Near the bottom, her feet hit a fallen log and with a shout, she was sent flying over the log and straight into the dirty water that had collected at the bottom of the ravine.

Sarah gasped as the ice cold water closed in around her head, but the next moment she surged up on her hands and knees, gasping from the cold and spitting out the taste of dirt from her mouth. She wiped water from her eyes and slowly got up. The water came up to her ankles. Her shins ached from where they had hit the log. When she checked them, she saw that her right shin had a large gash that was dribbling a bit of blood. She also had dropped the flashlight and despite fishing around in the water, she couldn't find it. Finally, she threw up her hands and marched up the other side of the ravine, carefully digging her feet into the muddy ground and using the trees as leverage so she wouldn't go sliding back down.

At the top of the ravine, she dug out a packet of tissues from her backpack and used them to wipe the blood off of her gash. She kept a band-aid in her wallet behind her driver's license and although it was smaller than the gash, it was better than nothing.

"So, let's see," she muttered to herself as she positioned the band-aid against her skin, "what's my track record so far? Hurled in front of Goblin King, got lost in the forest, and fell face-first into filthy water—wonderful."

There was a painful lump in her throat. She tried to swallow it down, but it seemed lodged there. _I want to go home, _she thought, suddenly. _I want clean clothes, a cup of hot cocoa, and an Advil. I want to sleep in my warm bed. _Tears blurred her vision and leaked out of the corners of her eyes. The only reason she knew she was crying was because her tears were warm against her frozen skin.

Sarah leaned against the nearest tree and had a good cry. When she finished, she didn't bother to wipe her face. The rain would quickly wash any warmth her tears gave her away. She pushed herself away from the tree and thought, _I'm a fighter, remember? I don't give up for anything. _The cry had gotten out her frustration and fear, now it was time to get back to work. She had to keep going. So, she chose a direction again and began walking.

After ten minutes, the forest suddenly opened up into a clearing. Sarah stopped, her eyes widening at what was before her, and she forgot all about being cold and wet and miserable.

At the center of the clearing was a large, squat tree with a pot-bellied trunk. Sprinkled around it where strange flowers that gave off a soft, ethereal light. The flowers' petals were blood-red with black tips. Their yellow filaments were long, standing proudly out from the center, and the little caps, the stamens, at the end of each filament were the part of the plant that glowed. It was beautiful—except there was something eerie about the whole thing. Sarah frowned, trying to identify what made her uneasy. Finally, her gaze rested on the tree.

The wood of the tree was darker than the other trees in the forest. It was also oddly shaped, as if it were bloated with something. _It has no leaves, _Sarah realized. She looked at the other trees and her frown deepened. On all the trees that ringed the clearing, the branches that faced the center were bare of leaves. It was like someone had gone around and plucked every last one that faced towards that dark-wooded tree. She also noticed that the tree next to her had a huge chunk of wood carved out of it, like someone had driven a sword into its trunk. It was the sickliest tree ringing the clearing.

Holding her breath, Sarah took a step into the clearing. When nothing happened, she let the breath wheeze out of her mouth. She looked at the flowers and watched as the raindrops hit them, causing the petals to bob. Something wasn't right. She remembered how the stalks had felt ominous—the tree gave off that same feeling.

Before Sarah could really think about what she was going to do next and convince herself not to do it, she had begun to walk further into the clearing. She carefully avoided the flowers; she didn't even want one petal to brush against her. As she walked, she tugged off the glove covering her right hand. It was the Goblin King's leather gloves that kept her hands warm, and the moment her right hand was free, her fingers were slick from the rain and tingling from the cold.

_It's almost like the rain steals warmth, _Sarah thought. She stuffed the glove in her pocket and stopped in front of the pot-bellied tree.

Its bark was rough and cracked. Between the cracks oozed amber colored sap. Sarah licked her lips, tasting the rain, and took a deep breath. Then, she touched the tree, her fingers skimming across the rough bark.

_PAIN._

_**MALICE.**_

It was there again, just like the stalk, and the pain barreled into her, trying to make her weak. Sarah kept her contact on the tree and grimly stood against the pain, sifting through the negative emotions, trying to look for something besides all those horrible feelings.

There! She felt something brush against her mind and turned her attention to it. She squeezed her eyes shut and pushed away the pain and malice to focus on this other feeling, much like pushing drapes out of the way. It was odd, using one's mind like an extension of one's body. Her will was like a hand that could reach out and grab or push. Right now, it kept the negative emotions at bay, and underneath it all was the feeling of _satisfaction_. The tree's roots were connected to the flowers; they strengthened each other, and the roots were feeding from the ground, but not like normal plants did. Normal plants took nutrients and gave off nutrients of their own. This tree—and the flowers—simply _took_ from the ground.

_No, _Sarah realized, feeling dread weigh in her stomach like a stone, _not just the ground. They're taking from the _Labyrinth. _That's why the satisfaction. Whoever put these magical plants here knew damn well what they were going to do—and felt satisfied about it!_

She tried to follow the root system, which was deep and went far. Were the plants in this clearing connected to the stalks? But once again something stopped her from following the magic in the roots—a vision blossomed against the darkness behind her eyes.

She saw crows flying down from the sky like blobs of ink. They flew closer and closer together until they were no longer crows but a spreading, black shape. Quickly, the shape took a form: a silhouette of a man, and then the man stepped forward into the clearing. The light from the flowers illuminated his features and Sarah shuddered as she recognized him.

It was the black-haired man from her dream.

He wore a cloak so black it seemed to suck up the light from the flowers. The rest of his clothes were varying shades of gray. He took a step forward and a cruel smile touched his lips. Behind him was the sickly tree with the scarred trunk.

Sarah gasped, whirling around, thinking, _He's right behind me!_ But, no one was there. The connection was broken; she no longer saw the man and no longer felt the negative emotions from the tree.

_Just a vision, nothing more, _Sarah thought, rubbing her fingers into her temples. She felt the beginnings of a headache. _It was just a waking dream._

Behind her, a crow cawed. Sarah froze, holding her breath, and slowly turned back to the ominous tree. Her eyes widened and her heart slammed with fear as she saw that the bare branches of the tree were crowded with crows. The crows were so closely jam-packed, there wasn't an inch of room, and they were all watching her. Some cawed softly, shifting as much as they could with the little space they had, their spindly legs grabbing the branches tightly.

_Back away, _Sarah thought. _Just back away. _She kept her hands at her side and took a step back, keeping her gaze on the crows. They kept their gaze on her, but made no sudden movements.

Sarah took another step and froze when a few of the crows unfurled their wings. Tensely, she waited, but nothing more happened so after a few moments she took another step back.

Suddenly, one of the crows jumped into the air and beat its wings—heading straight for her. She had only enough time to register the angry, black eyes and the fact that there was something in its mouth before she dived to the ground. She felt the air from its beating wings against her cheek, but otherwise it missed her. Sarah leaped up and turned around to see where the crow was. It was trying to come back at her. Sarah ran towards the edge of the clearing.

She heard the beating wings behind her. They were getting louder. At the last possible minute—when she felt the air from the wings ruffle her hair—she dived to the ground again. It jarred her, causing pain to run up her arms where they had caught her weight, and the gash on her shin began to throb again. She rolled on the ground and when she looked up, the crow was there in front of her face, clawing at her, trying to attack her with whatever was in its mouth. She couldn't see anything except black feathers, beady eyes, and a sharp beak.

Sarah threw up a hand to shield her face, the other hand danced across the ground, searching for a weapon. The crow's feathers brushed against her arm and its sharp talons raked her skin, leaving bloody scratches behind. She cried out from the pain of it, but she still was able to dodge its beak. Whatever was in its beak, the crow was trying to attack her with it, or drive it into her.

Her fingers closed around a thick branch that was hidden in a pile of dead leaves, no doubt from one of the trees that had lost its foliage. Sarah brought the branch up and bashed the crow. It cawed in surprise and fell to the ground, bouncing, before it got its feet underneath its body. However, it still gripped something in its beak.

Gasping for breath, her heart hammering a tune in time with the pounding in her head, Sarah slowly got back to her feet. She swayed a little, then brought the branch up like a baseball player.

"Come on you walking bag of disease," she muttered, choking up on the branch. "I'm not afraid of you."

The crow eyed her and then the branch, as if wondering what its odds were. It hopped around for a moment, as if it were feigning. _It doesn't think like an animal, _Sarah thought, shuddering. The crow saw this and took it as an opportunity, launching forward with the flap of its wings.

Sarah gasped and swung. The branch connected with the crow and Sarah felt it all the way to her elbows. There was a wet _crunch _sound and the crow dropped and didn't move.

Behind her, the other crows cawed in anger and Sarah whirled just in time to see every last one launch into the air and fly towards her. She screamed and ran for the trees. She felt talons rip across her shirt and catch her hair, but she made it past the ring of trees. Here, the tightly packed forest would slow the crows down.

Behind her, she heard _thud _noises as crows collided with trees, but when she looked over her shoulder, she saw some still followed her. She pumped her arms, desperately dodging trees herself. As she ran, she screamed Jareth's name, praying for a rescue.

She tripped, caught herself on her hands, and pushed herself back up just in time. _I'm not going to make it, _she thought. She could hear the birds behind her. _I'm tired and wet and hurt. The rain is making everything slippery. I'm going to mess up and then they've got me._

As if her thinking about it made it happen, Sarah tripped again and this time when she went down, she was too exhausted to break her fall. Her head smacked against the edge of a tree and she rolled a few inches. Her head exploded in pain and the edges of her vision darkened. Sarah had just enough time to throw an arm over her face before she fell unconscious.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Wow, didn't know this chapter would get done so quickly (who needs sleep, right? XD). Although, I feel it's a little less polished than the previous ones. The next chapter should probably be up later today, as well.

(Jareth appears in a shower of glitter, glaring with his arms crossed over his chest)

Jareth: I couldn't help noticing that I was strangely absent from this chapter.

CQ: *ahem* Well, this is a third person subjective narrative, and Sarah _is_ the current POV character...

Jareth: I feel that my lack of lines is extremely disrespectful. I _am_ a king, you know. And to think I wore my best pants!

(CQ stares at certain area of the pants and hopes she isn't drooling)

CQ: Yes, those are very nice...

Jareth: Stop staring woman and get back to writing. I demand more lines!

CQ: Don't worry, you'll be there again soon.

Jareth: How soon?

CQ: Very soon. I promise. But first, I need to sleep and eat--

Jareth: That is unacceptable. What will encourage you to write quicker?

CQ: Well...um...I can think of a few things...

(CQ stares at Jareth's pants again)

Jareth: I am not a slab of meat to be oggled, woman! Kindly keep your eyes above my waist-line!

(CQ seems not to hear Jareth. With a sigh, Jareth disappears in another shower of glitter, leaving CQ staring off into space.)

(Sarah appears and waves a hand in front of CQ's face, to no avail)

Sarah: *sigh* It looks like Jareth's pants have broken the author. While we wait for her to come back from whatever la-la land she's gotten to, please review the story! Comments and suggestions are most welcome!

CQ: Jareth...pants...yummy...

**The Fine Print:** *checks* Yeah, still don't own anything in regards to the Labyrinth.


	5. A Seed Planted

**Chapter Five: A Seed Planted**

Sir Didymus was on a quest. He liked to go on quests every now and then. He didn't know exactly what the quest was, but he figured he'd know when he saw it. So, he was riding Ambrosia along a dirt road. The field that lined either side was filled with sunflower plants. The sky was tinged red because of the setting sun.

_Beautiful, _Sir Didymus thought, _perfect for a quest._

Suddenly, some of the sunflowers to his right began to shiver, as if something was disturbing them. Sir Didymus made Ambrosia stop and watched the bobbing eyes of the sunflower plants. He touched the short sword at his side, waiting, but nothing came out.

_Perhaps a rabbit? _He thought. Delicately, he lifted his snout and sniffed the air.

He didn't smell rabbits. He did smell _something, _but he couldn't identify what it was. Sir Didymus had always prided himself on his nose, so being unable to identify a smell worried him more than anything else. He urged Ambrosia into a fast trot, suddenly wanting nothing more than to get away from the sunflowers. The beauty of the landscape was forgotten.

To Didymus's horror, the movement followed him. No matter how much he urged Ambrosia to go faster, the sunflowers to his right continued to dance. Someone was following him—someone out of sight.

Didymus halted Ambrosia again, then slid off his trusty mount, and withdrew the short sword.

"Who goes there?" he shouted. "Show yourself!"

At first, nothing happened. The way the sunflowers bobbed, it looked like they were shaking with laughter. Sir Didymus growled with anger. Just when he was considering going into the sunflowers and flushing his unwelcome visitor out, he heard a soft caw. A moment later, a crow hopped out of the sunflowers and onto the dirt road. Sir Didymus looked at it with surprise, his white eyebrows nearly touching his feathered hat.

After all of that, it was nothing more than a bird. He felt silly and sheathed his sword. Then he noticed that the crow held something in its mouth. He stepped closer to the creature, trying to identify what it was.

Suddenly, the crow launched for his face and with a cry, Didymus jumped to one side, narrowly missing the crow. It wheeled around and drew back its wings, diving at Didymus with such speed, it was a streak of black.

_There is no way I can dodge it or draw my weapon quickly enough. The fowl beast has me, _Didymus thought, even as his hand went to the hilt of his sword. He would fight to the last breath, if he had to.

Just as the crow was about to connect with its prey—when Sir Didymus's vision was filled with black feathers and angry, beady eyes—Ambrosia jumped in the way. The usually cowardly dog barked and its strong jaw closed around the crow's head. With a jerk and a twist, Ambrosia had bitten through the creature's neck. Sir Didymus watched, flabbergasted, as his faithful steed spit out the crow's body and whimpered.

Sir Didymus shook himself and petted Ambrosia, reassuringly. "There, there, Ambrosia."

Ambrosia whimpered again, rubbing his tongue against his foreleg.

Didymus grinned. "Tasted pretty awful?"

Ambrosia's only answer was another whimper.

"Verily, though, you saved my life, Ambrosia," Sir Didymus said. He hugged the dog and then continued to pet it. "Thank you, my friend."

When Ambrosia stopped trying to get the taste of crow out of his mouth, Sir Didymus turned his attention back to the bird's corpse. Near it was a sliver of something._ That's what was in the foul creature's mouth, _Didymus realized, leaning forward. The sliver was a long, wickedly sharp thorn. It was black, except the tip, which was crimson-colored. Didymus shuddered.

"If the creature was trying to drive that miniature spike into my flesh, I am most pleased that he failed," Sir Didymus said. He tapped his chin with a paw. "However, Ambrosia, perhaps we have found our quest? We need to immediately find some clear water." He hopped onto Ambrosia's back and together the pair went off down the road.

It was a good, long while before the fields flattened further, the sunflowers faded away, and Sir Didymus found a small pool of water. It was fed by a small brook that bubbled and gurgled like it was laughing. Didymus knelt by the side of the pool as Ambrosia drank from the brook.

First, he called Ludo, for the beast's ability to hear the call of rocks also made him sensitive to calls of another nature. However, for some reason, the pool only reflected Didymus's face back to him. The fox frowned. Ludo should be able to hear him. All creatures of the Underground whose mind was above the level of base animals could call each other through water and mirrors. While Ludo's mind was child-like, he had an instinctual intellect and he should have been able to hear Didymus's call.

Didymus gave up after a few more moments and then tried Hoggle. His anxiety increased when again the pool remained unaffected. Ambrosia had finished drinking and now was sniffing the ground, bored. Didymus frowned, stood, and brushed off his pants.

"We must return to the Goblin City at once, Ambrosia. Something is wrong." Sir Didymus jumped onto his steed's back and the pair turned the way they had come. Sir Didymus had been on the road for weeks, he had a long way to go before he came back to the Goblin City. Would he be too late?

_No use in dawdling, _he thought, and spurred Ambrosia forward. The dog bounced over the ground, jarring Sir Didymus, but he held on tightly. _Do not worry, my friends, I am coming!_

# # # #

Far away from the fox and his dog-steed, within the largest range of mountains in the Underground, Ludo sang to the rocks. His voice was surprisingly clear and sweet, although the noise was a lot like whales singing.

Ludo left his cave every morning, where his family—siblings, parents, relatives, and all—to sing with the rocks. At this high altitude, there were barely any other creatures besides the rock singers, so when a crow perched on a nearby rock outcropping, Ludo looked at it with head cocked.

The crow had something in its mouth. Ludo leaned forward, a hand outstretched, and said, "Friend?"

The crow hopped onto Ludo's proffered hand, cocking its own head to look at the creature. Ludo remembered how, once, he had found a chicken injured in the Goblin City after Sarah had left. The goblins had been trying to fix their homes, but they had ignored the injured chicken so Ludo had nursed it back to health. When it had finally been at full strength, Ludo had released it. Everyone had a family to return to, after all.

The crow slowly hopped up Ludo's arm and suddenly he felt uncertain. The crow still had something in his mouth. Ludo turned, thinking to put the crow down, when suddenly the crow flew right at his face. Ludo cried out in surprise and the rocks around him shivered in answer. Ludo managed to get a hand up in time and batted the crow away. His one hand was the size of the crow.

The crow wheeled around and launched at Ludo again. Its talons raked along Ludo's hand but he ducked and felt the crow's wings flap against his face ineffectually. The third time, the crow tried another approach. It pumped its wings and lifted into the sky until Ludo had to shade his face from the sun. Then, the crow folded its wings back and dived like a black arrow, heading straight for Ludo's face. This time, at the last moment, Ludo grabbed the bird and threw it. The crow hit the ground, which was rocky and jagged, and didn't move again.

Ludo bent, nudging the crow with his finger. He saw a thorn next to the crow's body. It took a few moments to get his chubby fingers around the little piece of wood, but finally he lifted it—and yelled deep in his throat, dropping the thorn.

"Ow! Thorn _cold_," Ludo yowled, sticking his fingers into his mouth. It felt like he had been burnt from the extreme cold the thorn gave off.

He extracted his fingers from his mouth and gave two harsh notes, calling forth the rocks. A rock the size of a watermelon unattached itself from a nearby outcropping and rolled to Ludo's feet. He picked it up in his hand and ground the thorn down, until it was flat and useless. He looked around, but saw no more crows. Flicking the rock away, he sang two more notes, allowing it to join back with the mountain, then he trudged back towards his cave. Suddenly, he wanted nothing more than to be with his family.

# # # #

At the edge of the Labyrinth, near a wading pool lined with small, white flowers, Hoggle stalked fairies with a squirt can. Whenever Hoggle was bored, he dug around his closet and found the old squirt can and went fairy hunting. Fairies bred like rabbits—even though he'd never seen a pregnant fairy, he just kept seeing more and more of them.

In fact, he'd been spraying fairies when he first met Sarah. He liked to think about Sarah. The plastic bracelet she gave him hung on his belt. He remembered her earnest face when she'd called him his friend, and his own pathetic reply of never having friends before. Hoggle sighed and spotted a fairy dipping a hand into the wading pool. Hoggle squirted it and the fairy cried out angrily in a tiny, high-pitched voice. It tried to fly away, but it couldn't seem to fly in a straight line, and finally he fell to the ground unconscious. The spray didn't kill them; it kept them from breeding, which kept the fairy population down.

He remembered the last time he had done this. It was when he couldn't reach Sarah by the mirror anymore. He'd been so upset, he nearly sprayed himself in the eyes. Sir Didymus had come to find him and the little fox had watched him for a moment before saying, "Verily, Hoggle, you knew this would come to pass."

"What?" Hoggle had replied, sullenly.

"That our dearest Sarah must move on past the Labyrinth."

"Why should she? She said she was my friend!"

"Even friends lose touch," Sir Didymus had said, gently. He had placed a paw on Hoggle's shoulder. "But Sarah will always remember us, even if she no longer speaks with us."

"It ain't good enough," Hoggle had replied.

"Maybe one day she will remember her childhood friends from the Labyrinth," Sir Didymus had continued, "and she'll reach out to us again."

Hoggle blinked away the memory. Sir Didymus had ended that conversation saying he was off on a quest and merrily left with Ambrosia. Ludo had already left the Labyrinth for the mountains. Didn't the stupid fox care that Sarah had _abandoned _them? Didn't that overgrown fuzz ball care? Or was Hoggle the only one affected by Sarah's absence?

"I ain't that affected," he muttered to himself, spraying another fairy that, with a yowl, veered off its flight path and bumped into the outer wall of the Labyrinth. It slowly slid down the wall and sat on the ground, dazed. He had plenty to do, he had his cottage just outside the Labyrinth with a garden and a kitchen to cook food and…oh what was he kidding? His life was pathetic. Jareth hadn't even thought it worthwhile to punish him—all those threats about the Bog of Eternal Stench and in the end, when Sarah had left years ago, the king had just turned away from the dwarf and went back to the castle. Hoggle wasn't even worthwhile enough to be bogged!

Hoggle was so deep in his self-pity and boredom that he didn't see the crow until he'd nearly stepped on the creature. It flapped its wings to get his attention and he stopped, looking down at the crow with a frown. Crows weren't common creatures in this area of the Underground. Besides chickens, the Labyrinth—and the Goblin City and the castle at its center—were relatively bird-free. Not only that, but this crow was acting weird. It was watching Hoggle and there was something in its mouth.

"What are you looking at?" Hoggle asked, drawing himself up to his full dwarf height. "Shoo! Shoo! I'll spray you if I have to, even though you're not a fairy."

Suddenly, the crow launched right for Hoggle's face. "Wha—?" the dwarf cried up, throwing up his hands and dropping the spray can. He felt talons scrape across the back of his hands and the crow wheeled away, flapping a few feet above Hoggle.

Fear gripped the dwarf and he looked around, panicked. He whirled and ran for his cottage. He'd be safe inside. He heard the flap of wings behind him and the crow ran right into his back, jarring the dwarf and nearly tripping him.

"Stop it!" Hoggle yelled. He wished furiously that Sarah was there to save him—heck, he'd even take that pompous bastard, Jareth.

The crow hit his back again and this time Hoggle was thrown completely off balance. With a cry, the dwarf fell to the ground. The crow was upon him a moment later. He felt the claws rake across his shirt and face as Hoggle rolled, trying to keep the creature away from his eyes. He felt the crow scrabble for purchase on his shoulder and then a moment later he felt a piercing pain at the base of his skull. He screamed and lay there, dazed, as he felt a great coldness sweep through his entire body, numbing him.

The crow hopped around his head until it peered into his face. There wasn't anything in the bird's beak anymore.

Hoggle's fingers skimmed along the base of his neck where the pain was the greatest. He felt something jutting out from his skin—something about the size of a large splinter. But, his numb fingers weren't working correctly and he couldn't get a grasp on whatever-it-was to pull it out of his skin. Finally, his hand fell away. He couldn't care anymore; he was so tired and cold and numb…his eyes slowly drifted closed.

A moment later, his eyes suddenly opened again. They were glazed. The crow cawed with satisfaction, then suddenly reared its head forward, its mouth agape and its body shaking. Its throat worked and it made a coughing noise, shuddering. After a moment, a bulge grew in its throat. The bulge traveled up and with one more shuddering cough, the crow expelled a tiny seed, about the size of a pencil eraser.

The crow launched into the air and its wings pumped furiously as it flew off. After a moment, Hoggle pushed himself up to a standing position. He swayed a little, then bent and picked up the seed, placing it in his pocket. He walked with determined, steady footsteps. When he passed the worm that lived in the wall, and the little creature called out to him, he simply kept walking.

"Well!" the worm said, watching Hoggle's back as he turned into the secret entrance. "Glad I didn't ask him to join me and the Missus for a cup of tea. The Missus never liked rude people."

Hoggle walked for a very long time until he reached the Wiseman. The old goblin was deep asleep, lightly snoring and every so often twitching. Even in sleep, the old goblin held out the donation box. The bird-thing on its head was awake, and bored. It perked up when it saw Hoggle and called out, "Oy! Give us a bit of shiny, will you, dwarf-man? I'll sing you a song as sweet as a nightingale if you do…who knows? Maybe it'll wake up this old fool." The bird indicated to his sleeping companion.

Hoggle paused and then turned away, but the bird said, desperately, "I know every inch of the Labyrinth, including a short cut! Just pay the price and I'll tell ya."

Hoggle hesitated, then unclasped the plastic bracelet from his belt and lifted the donation box's lid to feed it the bracelet. The bird said, "When you come to the knocker doors, just look for some bushes. There's a trap door. Saves you twenty minutes and by-passes those 'helping' hands." The bird shuddered. "I hear they're rather touchy-feely."

Hoggle didn't reply or give thanks. He just walked away. The bird's feathers ruffled in indignation. "How rude!"

"Fight it," the old goblin murmured in his sleep, shifting. "Fight it or she may never forgive you…"

Hoggle paused, but he didn't look back. After a moment, he kept walking. No one else stopped him; he was a resident of the Underground, after all, and there was no reason to suspect him. He walked to the center of the Labyrinth, through the Goblin City, over the bridge, through the elaborate gardens, and into the castle. Then, he took the stairs down into the bowels of the castle, into the deep, dank cellars.

Here, the ground was tightly packed dirt. Water dripped down the stone walls. Stacked on wooden shelves were rows of kegs with spouts pressed into them or wine bottles aging to perfection. He knelt at the center of the cellar and dug up a small hole with his fingers. The room filled with the smell of wet dirt. He drew out the seed from his pocket and dropped it into the hole, then patted the dirt back into place, firming it down. There was no need to feed it any water; the seed would grow. He brushed the dirt from his hands as he veered back towards the entrance.

A soft, venomous voice whispered in his mind: _She'll come back. You should wait and give her a proper "hello."_

Yes, she'd come back. She couldn't stay away from the castle _forever_. Hoggle took the stairs up this time, thinking about a girl with black hair and a quick smile. _Sarah_. When she came back, he would be ready.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Thanks for all the wonderful comments guys! I think they're partly the reason why I keep churning out chapters. ;) I didn't expect this chapter to be so long, but by the time it was done, it was about twice as long as I initially anticipated! I hope I haven't slowed the pace down _too_ much!

(There's a flash of light and a gust of wind and suddenly the Goblin King is standing there, looking angry and haughty and sexy -- you know, the usual)

Jareth: CQ--

CQ: Okay, I know what you're going to say...you're not in this chapter either. Um, wait...where's all the glitter?

Jareth: I was told by a rather insane woman that the glitter must be cleaned up. Her tendency to randomly shout things worries me. But, then again, last I spoke to _you_, I thought you would give yourself a stroke with the way you were staring at me. Perhaps I am merely a magnet for strange and insane women.

Sarah: WHAT was that?!

(Sarah seems to have snuck up behind Jareth. He jumps, guilty, and turns around)

Jareth: Sarah, my dear, you know I would never think of _you_ as "strange" or "insane." Never!

(Sarah slugs Jareth in the arm before turning to CQ. The Goblin King winces and rubs his arm)

Jareth: *mutters* Violent, maybe...

Sarah: I couldn't help noticing that I wasn't in this chapter either.

Jareth: _I_ was told I would be back in the story "soon." (Jareth crosses his arms over his chest) As far as I'm concerned, woman...you lied to me.

Sarah: So? What do you have to say for yourself?

(CQ holds up her hands in surrender)

CQ: Don't hurt the author! She needs all her parts working to type! Look, what if I told you guys that you're _both_ in the next chapter?

Jareth: I am still not mullified! This blatant disrespect will not stand!

Sarah: Yeah, we're already on chapter five and all Jareth's done has touched my hands! What gives?

(Jareth and Sarah both take a step closer, glaring at CQ)

CQ: Okay, okay...what if I sweetened the deal by saying the next chapter involves a...kiss?

(Jareth and Sarah pause, considering)

Jareth: We're listening...

CQ: ...and some adult-type touching?

Sarah: *nods* That's good enough..._for now_.

Whew! That was a close one. And now that I have sufficiently whet everyone's appetites for Chapter 6, please go and continue the reviews. They're my bread and butter, peoples! Plus, as long as it's constructive, you can say anything. :P

**The Fine Print:** Yada yada yada, own nothing of the Labyrinth, blah blah blah, except my original characters. Etc., etc.


	6. Not Quite Innocent Kisses

**Chapter Six: Not-Quite-Innocent Kisses**

When Sarah slowly came back to consciousness, she didn't open her eyes. The rain was still falling, slower but a few drops still fell against her face. Her whole body ached from gashes and scratches, scrapes and bruises, and her head pounded as if there was a monkey trying to get out from the inside. She lifted a hand to her head and ran her fingers through her soaking wet hair. She let her hand flop to the ground and, to her surprise, felt fabric.

Sarah opened her eyes, thinking, _What now? _Leaning over her was a painfully familiar person. His hair was just as wet as hers, yet it seemed to retain more volume.

"Goblin King…" Sarah murmured, briefly closing her eyes again.

"Sarah, really, you wound me. After all we have been through, why can you not just call me 'Jareth'? Here I have been desperately searching for you and, to my horror, I nearly trip over your unconscious form. I thought you were dead for a moment!" He shook his head, then grinned. "However, when I heard your snores, I knew right away you couldn't possibly be dead and make such noise—"

"_Snores? _I don't snore!" Sarah jerked back up into a sitting position, but she did so way too fast. Her head spun and she put out a hand to catch herself. Jareth grabbed the gloveless hand, trying to steady her.

They both gasped. Sarah felt tingles run up and down her arms, from the tips of her fingers to just above her elbows. Her muscles relaxed and her eyes slid closed as she suddenly felt Jareth's magic crowd her senses.

There was no pain or malice. The magic slipped over her senses like satin, warm and comforting. It was old, so old it made her bones feel brittle, and there was the smell of the sun against fresh dirt, cinnamon, and sandalwood. The magic was lonely, a by-product of its age, and Sarah found herself leaning forward—both bodily and mentally—trying to follow the magic back to its foundation, back to the Goblin King. Maybe if she found the beginning, she'd finally understand Jareth…

She felt a feather soft touch on her cheek and Jareth murmured, "Please, Sarah, don't…"

Sarah opened her eyes and her vision was filled with mismatched eyes—one dark and one blue like the sky—fringed with thick eyelashes. Sarah looked down and realized her hand, the one still wearing the glove, was pressed against Jareth's chest, right over his heart, which was hammering against her palm. The ungloved hand was still being held by Jareth. She snatched both back; weaving her fingers together, they rested in her lap. She felt so confused when he looked at her like that; when the arrogant, teasing Jareth momentarily faded away. She didn't know how to deal with him when he was being _nice _to her.

"Sarah, where's your other glove?" Jareth asked.

Sarah fished the glove out of her pocket and put it back on. She felt something slide down the side of her face and touched her forehead. Her fingers came away smeared with blood.

"My head! It's bleeding! No wonder it hurts so much," Sarah said.

"You do seem to be worse for wear since I last saw you," Jareth said. Whatever had been in his eyes a moment ago was gone and he was his haughty self again. "Maybe you should tell me what happened?"

Sarah quickly retold her story of going through the forest. She recounted the tree and the flowers, then her vision, and finally the crows that attacked her. When she was done, Jareth's face was stormy and he was looking off into the forest.

"I don't know how this happened," he said, finally. "So quickly, it seems the Underground is being corrupted. Even this forest is slowly falling to this—this enemy. And I don't even know his name!" He turned back to Sarah. "Was this the first vision you had?"

Sarah hesitated. "N-no. I've dreamt of him before." She didn't really feel like telling Jareth what that dream had entailed, though. Almost subconsciously, her hand raised and touched her chest, over her heart.

Jareth followed the movement. "Prophetic dreams, another talent I seem to have lost to you."

"What?"

"Dreams are very important in the Underground, Sarah. They are just one step below wishes. Sometimes, dreams show what the heart is hiding—and sometimes, if you have the talent for it, they may warn you about the future. A _possible _future, anyway," Jareth said. He hesitated and added, so softly that Sarah barely heard it over the patter of the rain, "I had one such dream before I saw you in the park."

"You did?" Sarah murmured, leaning closer. "What did you dream?"

Jareth was looking at her with that bored expression, but she wasn't fooled this time. It was such a careful construction that she couldn't believe it for a moment. He shrugged. "Of you, Sarah. I dreamt you walked through my castle in a dress of moonlight and gossamer, and everywhere you touched, my castle crumbled. You were beautiful, innocent, and cruel. And like in the dream, you destroyed my world."

Sarah shrank back. "Is that how you see me?"

Jareth looked away and didn't say anything. Sarah gritted her teeth with anger. "Well," she finally said, "for your information, I apparently have a much better opinion of _you _than you do of me! I'm sorry we couldn't sort out our differences that last time, Jareth, but you were asking way too much. My brother _and _my freedom—?"

"And your love—your heart," Jareth said, sneering. "Don't forget that little detail!"

"I—I didn't." Sarah sighed. "Look, Jareth, I was _fifteen_. My heart wouldn't've been much of a prize at that age."

Their eyes met and Jareth opened his mouth. Sarah found herself holding her breath in anticipation. The question was there—"And now? Is your heart the prize?" she could almost hear his voice saying it—and she found herself thinking, _Ask! Ask, damn you! _Even though she still didn't know her reply; how did she feel about the Goblin King?

Jareth searched her face, then looked away and the moment was lost. When he turned back, he was all business. He said, "I can heal your wound," he indicated the gash on her head, "and the others that are bleeding. But…it means I must touch you."

"Oh…oh well, my head hurts so much, I would say 'yes' to just about anything. So, go ahead."

Jareth started on the gash on her shin. Although it was mostly scabbed over, the rain kept it wet and as a result it still was oozing a little blood. To Sarah's surprise, Jareth gently grasped her by the calf and lifted her leg, forcing her to recline on her hands. He brought the leg up and she watched with bated breath as he leaned forward. His hands massaged the back of her calf as his lips gently kissed the wound. Sarah groaned before she could help herself and Jareth squeezed her calf, encouraging her. His fingers skipped over the skin on the back of her leg, from the lower thigh all the way to her ankle in feather-light touches that were extremely intimate and sensual. His lips were warm and where they touched, she tingled—the healing magic, no doubt. Slowly, Jareth let the tip of his tongue touch the wound and Sarah cried out as the tingling exploded into such warmth that momentarily she forgot the rain pounding on her head, the bitter cold, and her wet clothes. She shuddered for an entirely different reason—the hormones jumping through her system and the erotic sight of the Goblin King kneeling before her with her leg drawn towards his mouth.

When he drew back, Sarah moaned her frustration before she could stop herself. Jareth gave a feral smile, as if to say, _"Now you can't deny that I affect you."_ She was half-ready to beg him to keep going and see where such touches would lead them. Could they forget the problems they had spoken of only minutes before?

Jareth leaned forward to cup Sarah's cheek, his longest finger trailed along her chin, and he drew her back up into a sitting position. But, god, he was sexy, leaning forward with his mismatched eyes smoldering like that. Sarah followed his insistent tugs bringing herself willingly close to him. Her lips parted slightly and her breath quickened. She could feel her heart hammering in her chest.

Jareth's lips parted and she watched, groaning again, as the tip of his tongue wetted his lower lip. An image popped into her mind so vividly that for a moment she wondered if it was a vision—her, grasping that lower lip between her teeth and flicking her own tongue along it, suckling it until they were both shuddering with need. What would it taste like? Spicy, like his magic?

She nearly cried with frustration when all Jareth did was lean down and kiss the wound on her forehead. He held her close, so she couldn't move away, and yet the hug was warm and comforting. She noticed he had angled her so that she was shielded from the rain by his own body. She felt the tip of his tongue brush against the wound, and once again the tingling warmed her. The headache immediately vanished and her vision seemed slightly sharper.

_I wonder if I had a slight concussion, _she thought.

Jareth drew back and he was smiling at her again. Sarah parted her lips, focusing on his mouth, but he didn't move the few inches it would have taken to kiss her—and Sarah didn't move to meet him. Sarah gave a breathy chuckle and said, "Are you going to kiss all the scratches those crows gave me?"

"No." He grinned and took her hand, taking off her gloves. By simply running a finger along the scratches, they healed until they were simply pink lines of new skin. Sarah watched, fascinated, as his long, pale fingers worked. He held her so gently and he touched her only briefly, so just when she felt his magic he had already broken the contact to move onto the next one. When he'd gotten every last scratch on her hands, he tugged the gloves back on her.

He moved, as if to get the scratches on her arms and back, but Sarah stopped him, grabbing his hands. If he kept touching her, she'd lose herself and jump him. Even now, her body was tight with need. "That is—" Her voice was husky and she had to clear her throat before continuing, "That is enough. Thank you."

He grinned. "As you wish, Precious Thing."

Sarah narrowed her eyes. Something about the way he said it made her suspicious. "You didn't need to do all that touchy-feely stuff, did you?"

Jareth only laughed as his answer.

"You are such a tease!"

"I feel that is the pot calling the kettle black, my dear." Jareth captured her hand and kissed her knuckles. Even through the leather she could feel the warmth of his fingers.

She had to clear her throat again before saying, "D-Does this mean you can do magic again? Can we leave the forest?"

Jareth sighed, releasing her hand and making a flourishing gesture, but nothing happened. "I still seem unable to conjure crystals. Since you and I—well, since you have talents that were originally mine, it is easy to work some healing magic on you and it does not require crystals. But, the rain has lessened. I think this enemy simply wanted us stranded for a while, maybe for the purpose of attacking you. But, why there should be an interest in you, I don't know." Jareth shook his head. "A lot of this still makes no sense to me."

"Yeah, well, when you figure it out please tell me."

Jareth gave her that small, half-smile. "What a task I set for you and I didn't even know it! Here, I thought I was asking you something simple: touch the plant. You could go home afterward. Instead, I find you here still and injured. I'm sorry, Sarah."

"It's alright. I'm just glad I could help." And Sarah meant that. "So, if the storm's clearing, does that mean we can get out of here soon?"

"Yes, but until then let's find a more sheltered area of the forest." Jareth stood, then helped Sarah to her feet. She noticed that holding his hand made her heart drum. Great, now all his teasing and flirting had started making things _complicated_. And what was she—a teenager again, getting so effected by mere hand-holding? "I was trying to lead us there when we got separated. Stick close this time, alright?"

_I can't believe I let Jareth affect me that much, _Sarah thought as she followed him. _But, then again, I'm not made of stone. I bet any woman would melt under Jareth's regard. He probably has no problem getting a date on Friday night. _Since she didn't like the direction of her thoughts, Sarah instead focused on where they were heading.

They walked through the forest. Sarah, who thought every bit looked like every other bit, was relieved to be with someone who seemed to know where he was going. They walked in silence for perhaps an hour. By now, the sun had set and the forest was dark. Sarah wished she still had her flashlight. But while she stumbled, Jareth never once was anything but sure-footed. In a way, his endless grace was really annoying. Sarah was considering tripping him just to see what he'd look like flailing around like the rest of the world—_Maybe I am a _little _cruel, _she thought—when they entered a clearing in the forest.

"Oh wow," Sarah whispered, her eyes darting around. At the center of the clearing was a clear pool of water, fed by a small waterfall. Growing out from the cliff side, near the waterfall, was a huge tree. Its canopy was so interwoven that it provided a shelter from the rain.

"It's a beautiful spot," Jareth agreed, "and it's still untouched by all the corruption. You can sit by the water's edge and I'll collect some food for us. The water is safe for drinking."

Sarah went to sit on the damp grass. Although the canopy protected her from most of the raindrops, a few still slithered past and fell onto her skin. Compared to what it had been earlier, she didn't mind. She leaned forward and stared at her face in the water. She winced at her appearance. Her hair was going to tangle badly once it dried. She'd forgotten to take off her makeup when she went to sleep—had it only been a few hours ago? It was hard to judge time in the Labyrinth—and so now her mascara was smudged. She licked the pad of her thumb and tried to scrub the smears away.

The soft sound of crunching grass was her only warning that something had entered the clearing. Sarah froze, then whirled around and her breath caught in her throat. Standing a few feet away was a unicorn. It had the whitest coat, a long white mane and tail, and hair at its hooves, which were like a goat's. It was surprisingly small—closer to the size of a pony than a horse, but it was lean and sleek, unlike the stout musculature that ponies had. At the center of its forehead was the ivory-colored horn, perhaps a full twelve inches, with a wickedly sharp point on it.

Sarah didn't want to move and scare the creature away. She remembered a time she had gone camping with her step-mother, her father, and Toby. Deer had grazed only a couple of yards away from their tents and Sarah had sat at a picnic bench, trying not to move a single muscle, so that she could watch them for as long as possible. Her muscles were stiff, but she didn't want to move them for much the same reason.

The unicorn came forward and looked at Sarah with deep, blue-black eyes. Sarah stared back, unafraid. Then, the unicorn knelt beside her and rested its head in her lap.

Sarah's breathing nearly stopped. Here she was sitting in an enchanted forest with _a unicorn resting in her lap! _This was stuff out of fantasies, dreams, and books.

With a shaking hand, she gently petted the unicorn's neck, feeling the soft hairs of its coat, and then ran her fingers along its mane. Her fingers tingled when they untangled from the hair.

"Well, I couldn't find anything besides these mushrooms, I am afraid, but—" Jareth appeared from the forest carrying a load of mushrooms in his arms.

The unicorn jumped up and trotted away, back into the forest. Sarah watched it go with a cry of dismay. Her hand was outstretched, as if she could make the unicorn come back.

"It was beautiful," she said, wistfully, turning back to Jareth.

"It was a unicorn," Jareth answered. In a few, long strides he was next to her. "But, unicorns have always preferred the company of women, so I'm not surprised it went off when it saw me. I'm sorry."

_Wow, three apologies since I've come back to the Underground, what are the odds? _Sarah wondered, but thought it was wiser not to say anything. When Jareth sat down next to her, she reached out and took a mushroom. She washed it in the stream before popping it in her mouth.

The flesh was surprisingly sweet, with an almost nutty, subtle aftertaste. She liked it very much and washed another one before biting it slowly, savoring it. Her stomach rumbled, reminding her just how long it had been since she'd eaten—and she didn't count the Guinness.

"But," she said in-between bites, "I thought unicorns only appeared in front of virginal maidens?"

Realizing what she'd just said—and what her statement implied—Sarah felt a hot blush creep across her cheeks. She quickly stuffed her mouth with three mushrooms just in case Jareth asked something pointed.

Instead, Jareth smoothed a strand of hair off her forehead and gave her a small, half-smile. Sarah relaxed, even if the smile was wistful. After a moment, he said, "A common misconception. Unicorns seek out _compassion _and _kindness_, which often in older days were two qualities that virginal maidens had an abundance of. Back then, they were sheltered until their wedding night and so weren't hardened by the harsh truths of life."

"So married life makes you bitter?" Sarah asked, jokingly.

"No, I don't believe that," Jareth said. He washed a few of the mushrooms in his lap and slowly began eating them. When he had swallowed, he continued, "Married life can be good or bad or anything in the middle, but truly, Sarah, you must admit that life isn't always rainbows and wishes come true? Sometimes it's a harsh reality."

"Well…well, I still don't see why the unicorn would appear to me," Sarah said, still trying to lighten the mood. She thought that Jareth needed to smile more—_real _smiles, not those half-smiles. "You said I was cruel."

"Indeed I did, but the unicorn obviously doesn't know you that well," Jareth teased.

Sarah stuck out her tongue and Jareth chuckled. They lapsed into a companionable silence until Jareth once again broke it. "Sarah…tell me something about _your _life. What have you been doing with yourself these past years?"

"Oh, well, just living I guess." She pulled off the stalk of the mushroom, eating that first. "I mean, not much to tell really. I graduated from high school, went to college, majored in history and graduated with no real idea what I wanted to do. I guess that's the first step in a slippery slope, because next thing I knew, I was working retail despite my degree. But, it isn't so bad. I only have to work part-time because I write enough on the side to supplement my income."

"Is it a good life?"

"Yes," Sarah said, truthfully. "I'm happy, I have friends, and good co-workers…it's a good life."

"And by your own admission, I suppose you have significant others?"

Jareth hesitated, as if he was going to ask more, so Sarah quickly said, "Well, I mean, yeah I've had boyfriends. If I don't count my prom date, I had my first serious boyfriend in college. But, they've come and gone—I don't have anyone special like that right now."

"I see. And your family? Toby?"

"Well, my father and my step-mother are still together. Linda—my birth mother—died about five years back—"

"I am sorry to hear about it."

Sarah waved a hand, making a dismissive gesture. She didn't really think about her birth mother that much. The last few years of Linda's life, she hadn't been in contact with her only child. The sad truth of it was that Karen had tried to be more of a mother to Sarah. And how Sarah had once detested her for it!

Sarah smiled. "Toby's going to start middle school soon. It's still hard to believe that so much time has passed."

"Yes, indeed. The last time I beheld the boy, he was wearing those god-awful red-and-white striped PJs and I could bounce him on my knee." To Sarah's surprise, Jareth was actually smiling fondly at the memory.

"You can't really bounce him on a knee anymore." Sarah smiled. She finished off the last mushroom and brushed dirt off her hands. "Okay, I've been ignoring it for the past ten minutes, but I _really _need to pee. I'll be right back, Jareth."

He nodded, turning his gaze towards the pond. His eyes were half-lidded and he had a thoughtful expression on his face. Sarah turned back once to see his golden hair before the view was obscured by the forest. She didn't walk very far—she didn't want to get lost again—just went far enough to where she thought she could do her business without Jareth hearing anything.

When she was done, she headed back for the clearing. Halfway there, she stumbled and rested a hand on a nearby tree to catch herself. That's when she saw it, just a few inches from where her hand was. One of those strange, glowing flowers was directly in front of her, at eye-level. It had grown on a vine that twined around the tree.

Sarah's eyes widened. The flower shivered and then suddenly the petals seemed to spread further apart and the stamens glowed. The flower shuddered and a small cloud of yellow pollen was expelled into Sarah's face. She reeled back, surprised, as the powder burnt her eyes and settled on her skin. She swiped at her face, her gloves coming away dusted with the yellow stuff.

Immediately, she began feeling light-headed. It was similar to being tipsy. Sarah crashed through the forest, too out of it to make her steps any more graceful. She clomped through the undergrowth, barely dodging trees, and when she emerged into the clearing, she fell to her knees.

Jareth cried out her name and immediately came towards her. Sarah looked up and balked, blinking her eyes. The Goblin King was back in all his full glory. His skin looked paler as he loomed over her, looking down his aquiline nose. His eyebrows swept up dramatically, his lips were pressed into a thin line. Before, he had worn a simple frock coat, breeches, and boots. Now, he was wearing full Goblin King Regalia: a cloak made out of raven-black feathers, white breeches, and white boots. Glittering on his gloveless hands were rings with huge jewels embedded in the bands. His hair was swept into that voluminous style, little tendrils coming down. Chunks of his beautiful, blonde hair were colored black and the effect was dramatic.

He was looking at her so cruelly. She heard her name on his lips and he reached out to grab her arm. Sarah slapped his hand away and she heard him curse, but it was hard to focus on his face. Everything had a tendency to whirl and then reorder itself. She shook her head, trying to clear it, and when she looked up, he was even closer than before. He looked at her without a single emotion in his face, yet the way his hands fisted at his sides, she knew he was angry.

"Goblin King!" she gasped, holding up her hands in surrender. "Don't—don't hurt me!" This was the stuff from her worst nightmares, the ones where Jareth transformed into the evil Goblin King she feared was somewhere deep inside him. In those nightmares, he'd grab and push and shove until she would cry out in pain.

"Sarah, you stupid woman," she heard him say, even though his expression didn't match his tone. Sarah blinked again. The Goblin King reached out and brushed at her cheeks. "Why can't you trust me? Why can't you just…?" His tone sounded forlorn and desperate.

Suddenly, the Goblin King grabbed her by her upper arms and pulled her close. She had no warning. One minute he was looking at her, the next he leaned down and his lips descended, slanting over hers, and before she knew it, he was kissing her. And this wasn't an innocent kiss; it smoldered and coaxed for the same kind of intensity from her. Despite her brain that was screaming, _you're kissing the Goblin King! Who just a few moments ago looked ready to kill you!_ Sarah was happy to oblige her hormones and indulge in the kiss.

The tip of Jareth's tongue traced along Sarah's lips and she groaned, opening her mouth to give him access. He tasted spicy. She didn't know if she could get enough of that taste. Sarah let her hands tangle in his hair as she pulled him closer, demanding more, _wanting _more.

However, after a few moments of the desperate, passionate kiss, Jareth grabbed her shoulders and shoved her away. Sarah blinked and her eyes refocused. He didn't look horrible and cruel; he was back to the way he had looked before she'd left him.

"What…?" she asked, because it was the Underground so there'd always be a "what."

Jareth shook his head. His eyes focused on her lips, which were red from all the kissing, and then his gaze skittered away, looking towards the waterfall. "Precious Thing, sometimes I wonder why we torture ourselves like this." He shook his head, then turned back to her and smiled. He brushed her face lightly with his fingertips. "You were dusted with some fine, yellow powder and I think it may have done something to you. I healed you, are you better now?"

"You healed me? Is that what that kiss was about? Healing me?"

Jareth didn't reply and Sarah threw up her hands in a gesture of pure frustration. Talking to him really was like beating oneself with a hammer. She shook her head and then noticed something—the forest was eerily quiet. It took her a moment with her head cocked, listening, before she realized why.

"Jareth, it's stopped raining!" she said, grabbing his hand. She was so surprised, she forgot about her frustration. Even the many questions she had clamoring in her head—the first and foremost one being, _what does that kiss actually _mean_? No one kisses like that with just their friends or helpful acquaintances_—were put aside for the simple pleasure of knowing they could get out of this forsaken forest.

Jareth blinked, as if his brain hadn't quite caught up, then he looked sharply towards the forest canopy. Indeed, the pounding of the rain was gone. Jareth flicked his wrist and made the fancy flourish he'd done before, only this time he produced a crystal that rested on his fingertips like an offering. He grinned and said, "Ready to go back to the castle, Sarah?"

"Am I ever!" Sarah said, reaching out to touch the crystal ball.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Sorry this chapter is so long, guys, but I hope it was worth it. :) Please review! Remember, your reviews are my bread and butter. :P Unfortunately, both Sarah and Jareth are currently otherwise occupied. I'm working on a surprise for everyone -- another story! This one will have much more wackiness and humor. It's called "Bound and Delivered." I'm having a bit of trouble actually uploading it, but hopefully it'll be visible to everyone soon. :)

**The Fine Print:** Don't own anything in regards to the Labyrinth -- just my own character creations.


	7. Displaced Goblins

**Chapter Seven: Displaced Goblins**

The goblins were playing poker. The cards had red backs and were wrinkled, dirty, and stained, but they worked. Unfortunately, the poker "chips" were chickens, which wasn't working so well, especially since the chickens kept wandering off. Mort had been voted the chicken wrangler again. It was his job to collect any chickens that wandered off and bring them back.

"What this card again?" a goblin asked, holding up the King of Diamonds.

"That card 'Steve,' " the goblin across from him said in a very authoritative voice. "You put chicken in?"

The first goblin, Jeebo—he was skinny and tall for a goblin, with a long, pointy nose—eyed his last remaining chicken. He didn't know how it happened, but whenever he played poker against Wort, he always lost. After a moment, he scooted the chicken forward until it was in the center. There were three other chickens in the pot, all clucking with annoyance, and Mort stood nearby with a broom—just in case.

The other two goblins playing the game looked uncomfortable. One of them added a chicken, as well, while the other put his cards down and stuck a finger in his ear, wiggling it around. "Too rich for me," he said, indicating the stakes.

Wort stuck out a small, pink tongue as he considered his cards. Finally, he laid down his cards and said, triumphantly, "I have Brenda, Larry, Sally, 'Manda, and Burt. What you got?"

The other goblin only had three Steves, a Sally, and an Eric. Jeebo put down his cards: a Steve and three Brendas.

"I win!" Wort said, triumphantly.

"You do?" Jeebo asked, looking at Wort's cards more closely.

"Yeah, Burt automatic win, remember?" Wort said, pointing to the Jack of Diamonds.

"I don't remember that!" Jeebo said, stubbornly.

"It true, ask kingy." Since no one wanted to ask the Goblin King about poker, they grudgingly watched Wort collect his chickens.

One chicken pecked at his arm and Wort said, "Ow!" He looked at the steely glare the chicken was giving him and then pushed it towards Jeebo. "You can have this one back, Jeebo."

"You sure this poker?" the third goblin asked.

"Oh yeah. Definitely poker!" Wort assured.

The fourth goblin, the one who had folded, had gotten up to go across the throne room to the goblin pit where two goblins were tossing a red bouncy ball. Many goblins often spent time in the throne room when they were bored. It had everything they could need: a goblin pit, a stone floor that echoed their footsteps nicely, the throne itself which they could climb on whenever the Goblin King was away, and oftentimes there was a buffet table that lined one end of the room. Jareth had learned early on that well-fed goblins were less chaotic and trouble-making goblins.

Mort felt the slight vibration in the ground first and frowned. "Did you feel that?"

Jeebo looked up. "What?"

"Ground shake."

Wort shook his head. "I didn't feel nothin'."

"Ground definitely shake—there! Did it again! You didn't feel that?" Mort shifted from one foot to another, his large brown eyes looking very worried.

Slowly, goblins stopped what they were doing. Wort was one of the last to notice the tremors and by now they came every few seconds. The goblins frowned, looking at each other.

"King?" one asked, hopefully.

"No, King still gone. Besides, why shake castle?" another answered.

"Fireys?"

They all shuddered—including a few of the chickens—with the thought that the fireys had somehow gotten into the castle, en masse.

"No, castle shaking, not burning or breaking," replied another goblin.

"Fairies?"

Everyone made a _pfft_ sounds at this. The notion that fairies had enough magic to shake a whole castle was silly.

"My head hurts!" Mort said, clutching his tiny head. "I can't think what's happening! Where's King?"

"Far away, too far for us."

There may have been more said, but suddenly the castle shook so hard that many of the goblins lost their footing, crying out as they fell. Others skipped along the floor, which seemed to dance underneath them, trying to keep their balance. They all looked at one another, their eyes wide with fear, and then in one surge they all ran for the doors.

The goblins thundered down the stairs, past the doorway that led into the Escher Room, down further stairs, past the bubble ballroom, down some more stairs, past the mirror room, and finally down one more flight and out the front door. The castle had been thundering and creaking and shaking the whole time. The goblins were just glad they'd made it outside and they pooled into the front garden, looking up at the castle, their mouths open.

One goblin's pot fell off his head, forgotten.

With a final, groaning crash, the top of a giant stalk—it faintly resembled a bean stalk—burst through the highest tower of the castle. The stalk seemed to have crashed through the whole castle. Growing out of windows were vines with leaves already budding. By the positioning of the stalk and some of the vines that came out of the large bay windows, the plant had grown right through the throne room; probably a good thing that they had all run away when they had.

After a few more minutes of stunned silence, the goblin bent and put the pot back on his head.

"How we gonna tell King about this?" Jeebo asked.

"Do we need to tell King? Let's just point and say, 'lookie,' " Wort said.

"Can't really miss plant," Jeebo agreed. Then he frowned, thoughtfully. "You think this King's doing? New castle makeover?"

Wort looked hopeful. "Maybe. King did weird things before. Like make that ballroom for Lady, even though he never use it afterwards."

"Or that staircase room where nothing goes anywhere," Mort said. "I hate that room!"

"Or the Bog…"

Goblins shuddered, then Jeebo said, "No, he make Bog for _very _specific reason."

"What we should do now?" Wort said.

None of the goblins had any answer. Wort looked around, suddenly remembering the poker game and his chickens. He cried out in frustration. The chickens had not followed them out; they were probably somewhere in the castle, lost and confused—including the ones he'd won.

"My chickens!" he moaned.

Jeebo held up the cards. "Wanna play again?"

Wort hesitated, then shrugged. "Yeah, but I dealer."

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Just a short chapter for you guys. I'm probably going to be busy the next few days -- I have deadlines -- so we'll see how my upload schedule goes. I did start another story, as well, and have the first chapter uploaded. It's very different from "The Clockwork Heart," but it still has the underlying romance -- because I'm a sucker for a good Jareth/Sarah story. :) And yes, I realize that this chapter didn't have either of them, but don't worry, the next one will...and quite a bit of plot exposition too (all -- or at least a lot -- will be revealed).

(Mr. Unnamed Bad Guy with Black Hair appears, standing in the shadows and looking all mysterious and evil and stuff)

Mr. Bad Guy: Like me?

CQ: Yup, like you. You'll finally get more than a handful of lines! And a name!

Mr. Bad Guy: *grumbles* About damn time.

**The Fine Print:** All I own in this story are my original characters.


	8. Let's Parley

**Chapter Eight: Let's Parley**

Just like every time she had teleported, her stomach bucked and rolled. She kept her eyes closed, having no desire to see the way the colors bled and bubbled and reformed, so much like a kaleidoscope. If she ever got the chance, she'd have to ask Jareth why teleporting couldn't be instantaneous.

When she opened her eyes, they were in the garden near where she had first appeared. _Where I lost the contents of my stomach, _Sarah thought. _So much has happened to me, it seems like it was long ago that I made a fool of myself in front of the Goblin King…in front of Jareth._

Before she drew back, she glanced at him and thought of the kiss. _"I healed you…" _A kiss that meant nothing at all—but, then, what about everything else? The touches, the long looks, the double meanings? Sarah sighed and ran a hand through her hair—gloriously dry hair.

"I'm not soaking wet anymore," Sarah murmured, touching the sleeve of her shirt. It was so nice not to be cold, drenched, and shivering. She looked up to see Jareth adjusting his vest, the crystal was gone. She kept looking, with her mouth hanging open.

_Oh god, he's beautiful, _Sarah thought. It wasn't normal beauty; it wasn't a kind of beauty that existed in the human world. His hair was styled in a less extreme style than the ones he sported when she was fifteen. On another man, it may have looked silly, out-dated, or feminine but on Jareth it fit him so well. The vest was made out of dark blue silk, it almost looked black, with brocade in a lighter blue thread. The vest was over a simple, white shirt that was rolled up to his elbows. His necktie was blue, as well, and his simple-cut trousers were looser than anything she'd seen him in thus far and dark gray.

_He's not even wearing boots, _Sarah thought, staring at the polished shoes.

"Sarah?"

Sarah's head snapped up to his face. Had he caught her doing the once-over? Of course, she was staring at him like he was a hamburger and she was starved. She cleared her throat and quickly turned to the castle, trying to hide her embarrassment. She looked toward the castle—and froze.

"Um, Jareth, is that a _plant _coming out of your castle?"

"What?" Jareth looked, as well, and cursed. "Even here?" The anger in his voice made Sarah shudder.

They walked down the cobblestone path quickly. Sarah nearly had to run to keep up with Jareth, but she didn't complain. She could feel the anger coming off of him like heat waves and she didn't want to risk drawing his attention. At the end of the garden was a hedge cut like an arch. Standing just on the other side was a group of goblins. All of them were playing a card game—_Poker, _Sarah realized, when she stopped at the goblins.

Jareth cleared his throat and one goblin looked up. "Wort?" Jareth said.

"Kingy's back!" Wort jumped up, clasping his hands to his chest and swaying back and forth. "Oh, it was horrible, Boss Man! The green thing came out of nowhere and _broke _the castle!"

"Castle broken," another goblin agreed. He drew a card from the deck when he realized everyone else wasn't paying attention to him. Then he looked up, innocence shining from his eyes, and said, "I gots a Steve! I win!"

"We not playing right now," Wort snapped, looking at the goblin. "We in time out."

"Poker has time out?" the other goblin grumbled.

Jareth pinched the bridge of his nose. "Did you _see _anything? How could this happen?"

"We see nothin', Kingy," another goblin said. This one was thin and tall, with a prominent nose. He scratched his nose. "We just minding our own business—"

"Yes, yes." Jareth waved a dismissive hand, looking towards the castle.

With his attention fixed elsewhere, the goblins finally turned to Sarah and each one gave her a shy smile. Wort was the only one brave enough to step up to Sarah, give her jeans a tug, and say, "Hi Sarah Lady."

Sarah smiled. "Hi…Wort was it?"

Wort gasped and elbowed the skinny goblin. "Ya hear that, Jeebo? Sarah Lady know my name!"

"I know his name, too. It's 'Jeebo,'" Sarah said, pointing to the goblin that Wort had just named. Jeebo gasped, like she'd done some marvelous trick. Sarah pointed to Mort. "And you're Mort, right little guy?" Mort beamed. "But, all you others will have to tell me your names—"

It came out all as a rush. She wasn't sure what goblin said what, but she heard: "Spleen, Ghord, Notch, Whirly-whirl, Yargh." She said hello to each one, and they all seemed to take it as some great honor.

"Don't know what Boss Man mean," Wort said. "You're not cruel at all—"

"Wort." Jareth didn't look amused at all. Wort immediately fell silent, awaiting directions. The Goblin King—for that's what he looked like at that moment, a king—said, "All of you, go to the Goblin City. Tell everyone to stay inside. Prepare the hideaway, if need be, and await my further instructions."

The goblins scrambled up and some of them said, "Right, Boss Man!" Others crowed, "Right away!" And then they all ran around Sarah and headed through the garden until they were lost from sight.

Sarah shook her head and turned to Jareth. "The hideaway?"

"A precaution. I've never had to use it yet…" Jareth trailed off and went back to staring at the castle. Suddenly, he turned to Sarah. "I can send you back home now, Sarah. Your job here is done, there's…there's nothing holding you to the Labyrinth and this," he waved to the castle, "needs to be dealt with. _All _of it needs to be dealt with, so unfortunately I can't be a more adequate host and offer you anything like rest or refresh—"

"Jareth, I'm not going." The funny thing was Sarah hadn't known she was going to say that until the words popped out of her mouth fully formed, but now that she had said it, she knew it was the _right _thing.

"Why? Don't be foolish, this isn't your problem—"

"Regardless," Sarah interrupted. One day, he may get annoyed at that, but right now he seemed too confused to do anything besides stare at her. "I…I want to help…you. I'll try and help anyway I can. I have some of your powers, after all, and who knows if you'll need them."

"Sarah—"

"Please."

"Yes, Jareth dear, _please _let Sarah stay and play." The voice came from her left and it was smooth like chocolate and ran along her skin making it erupt with goose bumps. Sarah whirled and her eyes widened. Standing there, leaning against the hedge entrance less than five feet from them, was the man from her dream. Ironically, he wore the clothes that Sarah identified so much with the Goblin King's identity: tight pants, a black vest, and a ruffled shirt underneath. Yet his hair was cut short with longer locks in the front that ridged his forehead and gave him a more modern look than Jareth's hairstyle. The dichotomy of this man—particularly when she compared him to Jareth—was confusing.

Jareth growled softly in his throat, but his eyes were weary as he watched the stranger push away from the hedge and walk a few steps towards them.

The man's eyes were on Sarah, though, and the expression made her uncomfortable. It was like she was a puzzle he was trying to figure out. She rubbed at her goose bumps and murmured, "It's you." Jareth's gaze jerked towards Sarah, surprised, but he had been left out of this drama for the moment.

"Yes." The man smiled.

"Who _are _you?"

"My name…" The man gave a low bow, as if he was an actor on a stage. "I have named myself Leander." He straightened. "Do you like it?"

"It's a name. But it doesn't answer my entire question. Who…_are _you?"

"I think Jareth should know, perhaps if I gave him enough time he'd put two and two together and finally come up with four." Jareth only stared daggers at Leander, so the dark-haired man laughed and spread his hands. "Come, now, old boy. Surely you haven't been around so long that you've forgotten your own humble beginnings? 'A king you have been made, a land that once was fertile now dies waiting for your iron hand. Be cruel, oh King, and you shall rule forever.' "

The line seemed like a recital, as if Leander was dredging it up from memory. Sarah glanced at Jareth. His expression had completely changed into one of realization and horror. Sarah shuddered and goose bumps erupted anew along her skin. If Jareth had that expression—what did it mean? _What does _all _this mean? _Sarah wondered.

"Ah, see! The old boy finally gets it," Leander said. "I understand his role in this—the current king. And my role is also quite plain—the future king, of course. But you, Sarah Williams, I am at a loss to explain your part in this. If I asked Jareth, do you think he will tell me?" Leander turned to Jareth. "Well, old boy. What is Sarah Williams?"

Sarah gritted her teeth. She didn't like the way he said that, but she kept her mouth shut. There was something going on here beyond her current understanding, and Leander had power, that much was clear. What could she do?

Jareth kept silent, and Leander shrugged. "No matter, I know some of the story. A little dwarf told me. A little dwarf by the name of Hoggle…"

Sarah's heart gave a vicious squeeze and a pained sound escaped her lips before she could stop it. Leander seemed surprised by this reaction. He cocked his head slightly and studied her. "Hoggle means something to you even now? When you touched my plants those times, I was able to get a quick glance at _you _in return, and I saw your love for the creatures—but even now?" He pointed his finger at Jareth. "Do you feel love for him, as well? I saw brief bits of your history with the king, but I also know in the life of a mortal eleven years is quite a long time."

Suddenly, he made a flourish with his hand that was achingly familiar. Sarah glanced at Jareth, but he was looking only at Leander and his fingers were flexing, as if he wished it was Leander's throat within his grasp. When she looked back at Leander, the man had produced a perfect, half-bloomed rose in the palm of his hand. He held it out to Sarah, offering it to her. The flower was snow white, except for the very tips of each petal, which were red like freshly drawn blood.

"Perhaps you would take from me what you refused him?" Leander grinned and stepped closer to her. "Do you prefer brunettes, Sarah Williams?" He laughed. "Do you prefer your dreams tinged with darkness?"

"Sarah—" The word seemed ripped from Jareth's throat. It was filled with anger, despair, and uncertainty.

"Would my dreams mean anything coming from you?" Sarah asked.

The man laughed again. "Come, Sarah, I'm sure even you know that dreams mean nothing unless earned for oneself. But I'll give you the _chance_…"

Sarah met Leander's eyes. They were dark like his hair. Even Jareth had one light eye, perhaps as if to promise that there was something willing to _try _in him. When Leander offered Sarah her dreams, there was no warmth and longing, there was only curiosity and amusement. Ironic, then, that he had spoken the thing Jareth had never understood. _Dreams have to be earned_; it was this fundamental knowledge that Jareth had lacked all those years ago. When Sarah had lain awake at night wondering "What if?" it was this fact she had always come back to: Jareth _couldn't _really offer her dreams, because she had to earn them herself otherwise they were meaningless.

Sarah's lips pressed into a thin line. She jerked off the glove on her right hand with quick movements and shoved it into her pocket. Slowly, she reached out towards Leander.

Jareth took a sharp intake of breath. "Sarah," he whispered, "No…" He may have said more, but Sarah closed her ears to him and she kept her gaze locked on Leander, who was looking more amused by the moment. The arrogant bastard had a huge grin on his face.

At the last moment, just before Sarah could touch the rose, she adjusted her hand and shot forward. Leander managed to make a sound of surprise before Sarah's fingers closed around his wrist in a vice-like grip. Warm, bare skin contacted warm, bare skin. Sarah stiffened and gave a little cry as her mind exploded into darkness, as if she'd been shot out of a cannon and into a black abyss.

_LONELY, CONFUSED. Where am I? What is this? _The magic was tinged with these memories. And underneath it all, like a serpent under the water, was the black malice. It had been born of a steely resolve. _If there is no place for me, I will make a place for myself…_

Sarah cried out again as pain shot through her body. Leander was already attacking her, trying to get her to back away. It felt like a million needles were shoving into her skin—from the inside. She bit her lower lip, trying to hold on for just a few seconds longer.

Something snaked through the magical aura. It was older than even Jareth and it tinged with a kind of warm, honest apathy. It felt no connection to anything, yet it wasn't malicious. This magic had only briefly touched Leander. When Sarah reached out and touched it with her mind, words thundered and rattled in her skull: _**A king you have been made, a land that once was fertile now dies waiting for your iron hand. Be cruel, oh King, and you shall rule forever.**_

_Who is that? _What _is that? _Sarah thought. Before she could go further, the bombardment of pain became worse. It was so excruciating, Sarah could stand it no longer. She let go of Leander's hands and fell to her knees, gasping. She tasted blood and touched her lip. Her fingers came away bloody. She'd cut her lip open with her teeth.

Leander stood over her, his eyes dark and angry. "How dare you!" He kicked Sarah and she went flying backwards. "I asked you kindly, but you refused and so now, I shall ask you _cruelly_."

And just as that last word had faded, the skin on Sarah's face began to burn. Sarah screamed, scrubbing it. She pulled back her hand and saw a few specks of yellow pollen. She rubbed more desperately. _Oh god, oh god, it _burns_…_

"Make it stop! Make it stop! _JARETH!_"

She heard a cry and the sound of something embedding in wood. She looked up through tearing eyes. Jareth had a sword made out of pure, clear crystal. It was a simple, double-edged blade with an unadorned, crystalline hilt. He had swung it at Leander, a powerful arc that would have taken a person's head off. Leander, though, had a staff made of twisted bark, roots, and vines. He'd brought it up just in time for Jareth's sword to embed in the wood. With a jerk, the crystalline sword went flying, end-over-end. A flash of light came from it and when it hit the ground, it was a crystal ball and no longer a sword.

Sarah had to close her eyes then because tears were running down her face. She heard through the haze Jareth threaten Leander and the sound of grappling. Then Leander laughed and said, "I see! Oh, I see now! Goblin King, you are weak, for the girl has some of your powers!"

_If the pain doesn't stop, I'll go crazy, _Sarah thought. _I'll claw my own skin off!_

She had a momentary thought of doing it now; letting her nails score her skin and sloughing it off until every patch dusted with pollen was gone. However, just as she began to despair that this was her only hope, the pain suddenly vanished. She knelt there on the ground, on all fours still, gasping for breath.

Leander was still talking and she distantly heard him. A part of her mind was already recovered and keenly listening, knowing it was important. The rest of her was a shuddering wreck. "No wonder I couldn't find a way to kill you easily. No wonder you simply brushed off all my attempts. You have given a part of yourself to this…this _mortal_. I suppose if I am to be king, I will have to kill you both."

Finally able to look up, Sarah said, her voice raw from screaming, "No…there's no need to kill. Let's talk, instead, Leander."

"Talk?" Leander genuinely looked surprised, and to Sarah's amusement, Jareth's expression mirrored the dark-haired man.

Jareth was clutching his arm. A few drops of blood oozed from between them and dripped down his hand. Fear stirred in Sarah's heart.

"Yes, talk. Surely there's something you want besides 'I want to be king, I want to be king.'" _Focus, Sarah. If he thinks he can kill us later, that gives us enough time to think of something, _Sarah thought. "Dreams may have to be earned, but dreams change. Maybe there's something else you desire? Something that doesn't require bloodshed?"

_He couldn't just want to kill us, _Sarah thought. She had felt the loneliness, anger, and confusion that had tinged the magic within Leander; perhaps they were there because they were the oldest memories and the reason his magic had warped.

"Talk?" This time when Leander said the word, he was smiling and he sounded amused.

"_Yes_, talk. You know, one person opens their mouth while another listens to the sounds coming out?" Sarah winced when she saw the smile leave Leander's face. She'd probably gone too far, but she was exhausted from the pain—and everything that had happened before. She always did impulsive things when she was tired. "I—I mean, you can always kill us later, after the talking, right?"

"Right, you speak a truth." Leander considered, touching a long, elegant finger to his chin. While Jareth had pale skin, giving him an ethereal quality, Leander's skin was bronzed. He looked like Apollo: golden, healthy, and muscled; even if his hair was dark and more wavy than curly.

Leander spread his hands. "I agree, let's parley. But, not here. Come to me—both of you—in the throne room. _My _throne room. Into the lion's den. We will speak at length of everything and anything you want." As Leander spoke, he walked backwards and with each step he faded a little more, until only his voice remained. "I hope you make it there quickly, I've waited long enough…"

"Bastard!" Jareth spat the word out and then fell to Sarah's side, running his hands along her face. His thumbs swept over her cheekbones, leaving a smear of his blood on her left cheek. Gently, his thumb traced her lip and the split was healed. His eyes roved, looking for any lasting damage. "Sarah, are you all right?"

"Yes, but you're bleeding."

"It is nothing. Look, already it heals." Jareth pulled the sleeve away from his skin to show the wound had already scabbed over. He sighed. "What were you thinking, tempting fate like that? I am harder to kill, but _you_, Sarah—"

Sarah took out her glove and put it back on. "I don't understand, Jareth. What is happening? When I touched him, I heard a voice repeat what he said to you. What does it mean?"

Jareth hesitated, but finally he sighed. "He and I were born similarly and it seems like both of us heard the Labyrinth's call when we were finally aware of our existence. The Labyrinth is a cold, cruel mistress. Its decisions are solely based upon its own well-being. It is an old magic that has become sentient and has merged with the very Labyrinth. And since it is magic, it can bind a king to it, someone to look after the land it now claims as its own. Thrown into the deal is the Underground, which is such an integral part of the Labyrinth that it is all connected and feeds off one another. Whether the Underground is the only world, I do not know. I'd like to think not, just as there is an Aboveground there must be other worlds. But I am king of this one here," Jareth spread his arms, indicating the entire world around them, "except that if what Leander said is true—and I must assume it is so, for you heard the voice when you touched him, it would seem that I am being replaced by the Labyrinth."

"What? You mean the Labyrinth is _firing _you?" Sarah shook her head.

Jareth smiled. "It would seem so. Another king has been found and it seems there must be a trial by blood, winner takes all—"

"So there's a chance." Sarah grasped Jareth's hands and looked him in the eye. "Jareth, you're not sounding like your usual self—angry and haughty and cruel. You sound like you may give up."

"Sarah, what Leander said is true. By mistake or design, for better or for worse, you hold some of my powers now." Jareth cupped her cheek and Sarah unconsciously leaned into the caress. "As a result, my claim to the throne will not extinguish if Leander manages to kill me. My claim to the throne will live on through _you_. Leander must kill you too, and I will not let that happen."

"I can look after myself."

"No, Sarah—"

"No, _Jareth_," Sarah interrupted, cupping his face, mimicking what he was doing to her. Her eyes searched his, looking for that spark of the old Jareth, the angry Jareth. "If you don't fight Leander, I'll leave you here and go myself. The Labyrinth is _your _domain. _You are the Goblin King_."

Jareth looked away, giving Sarah time to stare at his profile. He was frowning, troubled, but there it was—that spark. He looked back at her and said, "Let me send you home—"

"_No_." She was doing it again, she was interrupting him. Karen had always told her how rude it was to interrupt people, but he didn't seem to care when she interrupted him. "No! I will stay here and fight with you! I have powers—maybe something can still be of use to you. I'll do anything I can to help you. Throw things at him—hell, I'll even pull up my shirt and flash him if it'll work."

Jareth laughed and pressed his forehead against hers. "I'd rather you didn't," he said. They were so close, his warm breath fanned across her lips. If Sarah moved just a fraction, they would be kissing—

Jareth stood and the lack of contact was so sudden, Sarah blinked for a few moments. Jareth leaned down and helped her up. He began to turn back towards the castle, but Sarah reached out and grabbed his arm, just above the elbow. He turned back to her, a quizzical look in his eye.

"Jareth…when you kissed me," Sarah said, slowly, "you weren't trying to heal me, were you? I still had the pollen on my face. It did snap me out of the hallucination, but—" Great, she was babbling, what was she trying to say? She took a deep breath. "Next time you kiss me, let it be for the sake of the kiss, okay? Don't make excuses…okay?"

Jareth's mouth opened slightly in astonishment. After a moment, he gave her a dazzling smile. "Alright."

Sarah felt her heart lurch, like it had been knocked off-balance. Warmth filled her and for a moment her whole world was Jareth's smiling face. He looked ten times more beautiful when he smiled like that—a true smile that reached his mismatched eyes.

She cleared her throat. "Let's get going."

He inclined his head. "Of course." But, for a moment they didn't move. Sarah looked at the planes of his face, how his lips quirked at the corners. How his darker eye suddenly seemed more brown than black; how the blue colors in the other eye seemed to move like gentle water. She memorized every detail she could before she turned away to look at the castle, looming before them, ominous with the giant plant bursting out of it.

_In that dream, I die in the throne room, _she thought. She remembered what Jareth had said—prophetic dreams that showed _possible _futures. Possible ones. She looked down at her feet and the moment stretched. Like before—now it seemed like almost a lifetime ago—when she had been drinking with Matt, she'd felt time seemingly stretch like this. She clearly saw two paths. If she turned away and sent Jareth alone, he would understand. He would send her home. She knew that now with a certainty that gripped her entire being. Or, she could continue on into the castle and face an uncertain future that may hold her death.

Sarah took a long, deep breath and began walking towards the castle, Jareth by her side.

* * *

**Author's Note:** I wasn't actually planning to get this done with today, but I sat down only to type up the first half and suddenly it all was finished! I hope you guys enjoyed the Big Reveal of the Baddie, who now has a name! It's really late in my corner of the world, and my brain is slowly shutting off. So, I shall bid ado, keeping this author's note short but sweet. Oh! But, I shall tantalize you with a sneak-peek of the next chapter: it involves chickens. Lots and lots of chickens. ;)

Leave a review -- long, short, positive or not-so-positive -- because it is, as I have said before, my bread and butter. It fuels me. It's like my Monster and my Red Bull in one. So feed the author, my friends! XD

**The Fine Print:** Please see previous chapter's fine print, 'cause it's still the exact same. ;)


	9. Betrayal

**Chapter Nine: Betrayal**

Sarah stared at the huge door, the entrance to the Castle Beyond the Goblin City. Next to her, Jareth said, "You realize that he's not really going to talk, Sarah. That we're not really going to hash any plans or make any compromises? He views this as more chances to kill us without having to actually get his hands dirty."

"I know," Sarah said, still staring at the door. It was nearly twelve feet high, made of dark, thick wood, with carvings of goblins and the Labyrinth all along it. The right side had a ring made of brass and shaped like interwoven leaves, while the left side had a ring made out of silver and carved with gears and cogs. The dichotomy of the Labyrinth, shown in two door handles.

"You can go back," Jareth said.

"I won't." Sarah reached forward and grabbed the silver handle, pulling. The door opened easily and silently. "I bought us time for a reason, Jareth. Time means the chance to come up with a plan."

Jareth didn't say anything, but he led the way into the castle. Sarah was a little uneasy about how silent he was being. What was he thinking? She hesitated a moment before following him inside. They entered into a grand, high-ceiling room with stone floors and walls with tapestries along it. Each one showed goblin hunting parties, chickens weaving in and out between boars and pigs and other animals Sarah couldn't identify. At the head of the hunting party was always the Goblin King, with blazing gold hair and a white steed. Sarah glanced at Jareth, but he was already walking to the stairway in front of them.

The castle smelled like dirt and plant. Here and there, shoots had broken through the floor and were budding leaves. Sarah gave these a wide berth as she followed behind the Goblin King, so she was extremely surprised when the floor beneath her feet groaned and shuddered. When Jareth heard the noise, he whirled back around to her. She had just enough time to look Jareth in the eye before the ground under her feet gave way, crumbling. With a cry, Sarah fell into darkness.

_I'm going to die by falling into a hole? _She thought. But, the fall was a lot like when she had broken the ballroom with a chair—slow and lazy. When she hit the ground, it didn't break anything, although she did land hard on her butt. Wincing, she massaged her lower back and looked around. There was only darkness, inky and black; a circle of light came from the hole she'd just fallen through.

"SARAH!" Jareth leaned over the hole. "Are you all right?"

"Yes." She stood, brushing herself off.

"Stay there," Jareth said. "I shall find you."

"No, I'll come back up." Sarah looked up again and saw the expression on Jareth's face. Her heart gave a vicious squeeze. "Don't do it, Jareth! Don't!"

"Sarah, I won't risk you. You're right, I am the Goblin King. I must fight for my throne." Jareth's voice was soft, soothing, and he smiled a little. "I'll come back for you afterwards."

"_No! _I'm going with you!"

Jareth shook his head. "While I appreciate your determination and I even enjoy your stubbornness, for it is a part of you, I think this time you will have to listen to me. I have never known someone so quick to run into battle."

"Don't leave me here, Jareth! I'm going with you!"

"Sarah, listen to me," Jareth said, his voice stern and while it didn't have the arrogant quality anymore, there was something that would not be trifled with. She paused, listening. "I offered you your dreams those years ago because I _wanted _to give them to you, every last one. I thought that was all I could offer you. Dreams in a crystal ball. But, I know better now. Do you understand?"

Sarah blinked, hot tears blurring her vision, making Jareth's face a smear of colors. "No," she said, her voice husky with unshed tears. "I don't understand, Jareth. Come down here and explain it to me."

She managed to blink the tears back just in time to see Jareth grin. "Nice try, Precious Thing, but it won't work. I'll come back for you, I promise."

And then he was gone. Sarah craned up on the tip of her toes, trying to hear anything that would indicate he was there. When she only heard silence, she screamed, "_Don't leave me here! _I'm going with you, Jareth! _I'm going with you!_" When no one answered, the tears finally fell down her cheeks and Sarah knelt there, indulging in a few moments of teary frustration.

He'd left her. Even with the excuse of protecting her, the truth was he'd left her. Sarah punched the ground, wincing when her knuckles ached from it, but the pain let her refocus. _If I hurry, maybe I can find the stairs and be back in time to help him, _Sarah thought. The truth of the matter was, she didn't want to leave Jareth; she wanted to fight by his side, to defend him—she wanted to fight _for _him. Just a few hours ago, she'd been a happy twenty-six year old, content to hang out with friends and have the occasional boyfriend. Now, that life wasn't enough. She still wasn't sure exactly what she wanted. There was a part of her that scoffed, saying in her mind, _So are you saying that you want the Goblin King? Are you going to use the L-word now? Are you crazy? We've been over the "what ifs" and the "whys" time and time again. You can't love the Goblin King because he's probably not human—actually, from the sounds of what Leander said, he's definitely not human! What are you going to do? Play poker with goblins all day and spend the nights with the Goblin King in the Castle Beyond the Goblin City until you grow old and die, leaving him to continue onto the next chick that strikes his fancy?_

"Shut up," Sarah muttered to herself.

_Also, don't forget that whole "let me give you your dreams" thing. They aren't really your dreams, Sarah. They're illusions created by magic with crystals he can juggle one-handed. They, ultimately, mean nothing. Have you forgotten that? _The voice continued. _He knows nothing about being human, nothing about human desires and hopes and dreams and fears. One day you'll look at him and see just how inhuman he is and one day he'll look at you and see what a boring, mortal girl you are—_

"_Shut up_!" Sarah yelled, clapping her hands over her ears as if she could block the voice out. However, it did subside. Right now wasn't the time to rehash all of her fears—everything that had made it so easy to give up her fantasies—in fact, now wasn't the time to even wonder whether she loved or liked or just lusted after the Goblin King.

Sarah's breathing was ragged, as if she'd just run a marathon. She looked around the dark room. She still had her backpack, but she didn't have her flashlight—of all the luck! But, she did have her apartment keys and it had a tiny penlight on it. She went through the backpack in a frenzy and finally found the keychain. She unhooked the penlight and pressed the button. The little LED light barely penetrated the darkness, but it gave her about a four foot radius in front of her which she could see. She also drew out the Swiss Army Knife and opened it to the biggest knife it had.

"Hello?" she called. "Anyone there?"

She walked a few steps forward, slowly, just in case the ground was unstable here, too. She heard footsteps echo in the space, ones that weren't her own, and froze.

Glancing nervously around, she yelled, "Hello?"

The footsteps were getting closer and Sarah tensed, her grip tightening on the knife. Feet appeared at the very edge of the beam of light. Then knobby, short knees, and finally one more step and the rest of the person was no longer in the darkness. Sarah sagged, relief washing through her so suddenly that she felt physically exhausted.

"Hoggle!" She flicked the knife closed and shoved it in her pocket.

Hoggle smiled. "Sarah."

"Oh Hoggle, I'm so glad to see you. Leander said he had you, that he got information from you, and I thought the worst…"

"No, I'm fine. Been hidin' out in the lower levels, though," Hoggle said. "Seemed safest. Why're you here?"

"I fell through the hole." Sarah indicated the hole in the ceiling. "Jareth called me for help, but then I kind of got mixed up in all of this."

"Nasty business," Hoggle said, nodding.

"I need to get to the throne room as quickly as possible. Do you know the way, Hoggle? Can you show me?"

"Yes, I know the way. Let me show you, I can get you there super quick." Hoggle held out a tiny hand and Sarah took it.

"I am glad to see you again, Hoggle. I thought…when we stopped talking years ago, I thought I'd never see you again," Sarah said, smiling. "I missed you."

"I missed you too." Hoggle took a step back, his facing going into the shadows. "Come on, Sarah, we don't have much time. That plant-boy is worse than the King, he'll make everyone into mince meat unless he's stopped. He doesn't care about the goblins, about the Underground—he just wants to rule. Wants to quiet the voice of the Labyrinth that yells in his ear."

Sarah frowned. "How do you know that, Hoggle?"

Hoggle hesitated, looking over his shoulder. He spoke and his voice seemed muffled by the darkness of the room, "Toldcha, I've been hiding out here. I can hear him walking around sometimes…can hear him talking to himself…"

He tugged at Sarah's hand gently, and she followed him into the darkness.

# # # #

It was a long while before Hoggle finally led her up a cellar staircase and back into the entrance room with the tapestries. Sarah wondered if Hoggle was moving slower than she remembered. Could the denizens of the Underground get old? Was only the king unaffected by time? Would, eventually, his denizens recycle into new goblins and new creatures, and once again he would rule over a new brood? It was a strange notion; she'd always thought that while time moved in the Underground—after all, it was night outside now, and when she'd first come back, it had been daytime—its inhabitants were untouched by it.

_If the Goblin King is the only one who is immortal, he must be very lonely, _the thought was sudden and crystal-clear in her mind, and it surprised her. She'd never considered that Jareth could be lonely. Perhaps out of naïveté, she assumed that being the king of a fantasy world would mean never being lonely.

She didn't have time to ponder more, because Hoggle took the staircase up and when he realized Sarah wasn't following him, he turned and waited. He was strangely quiet. When she had first gone through the Labyrinth and forced him to help her—later, it seemed like he had wanted to help her of his own will, but in the beginning he had definitely been unwilling—he'd grumbled nearly nonstop. Everything was something to complain about: the walking, Sarah, her innocence, Jareth, the citizens of the Labyrinth, Ludo, Didymus, Ambrosia, the strange riddles they were given—everything. But now, he barely talked. Was that part of aging?

She followed Hoggle up the steps to a landing on the first floor. "The castle changes," Hoggle said. "One minute there'll be fifty rooms, the next minute only one. And, 'course, that plant-boy's been messin' with things, so it's even more whacky than normal. Stick close."

"Yes." The hallway had no doors except one right next to the staircase. It was open and the light caught something inside, bouncing it back right into Sarah's eyes. Sarah blinked and went toward the door, already forgetting what Hoggle had said.

"What are you doing?" Hoggle hissed, already five steps up the next staircase. He turned around to look at Sarah and made a frustrated noise, but Sarah ignored him.

She peeked into the room and gasped. There were mirrors upon mirrors, all of them standing with frames of different colors—some extremely elaborate, with jewels and precious metals, while others were just plain wooden frames. There were so many mirrors in the room that there was only a small footpath that went through it and between the mirrors. Something about the mirrors tugged at Sarah and she stepped into the room, despite Hoggle's grumbling. In fact, she forgot about the dwarf due to her own wonder when she saw herself reflected in the mirrors.

Because not every mirror showed the same reflection; in some, she did seem normal, wearing her plain jeans and T-shirt. Her hair was disheveled from her fall, but it was thick and dark, falling to just below her shoulders. Her eyes—Sarah had always thought her eyes were her best feature—were wide and dark, glittering with intensity. She smiled and some of the reflections returned the same smile to her. She passed a mirror where she was dressed in a familiar white gown, her hair thrown back in an elaborate style with pearl strands woven through it. She stopped in front of this mirror and touched its cool surface; the reflected Sarah mimicked the movement, wonder in her eyes.

Her footsteps echoed through the room. She stopped in front of the next mirror, making a soft sound in her throat. Her reflection was wearing a beautiful gown. It was green and black, the former color matching her eyes. A corset top pushed her breasts up, teasingly showing a little cleavage. The sleeves were wide and trailed down so they nearly touched the ground. Bunches of fabric in the skirt, held together by little bows, made a romantic and dramatic statement, and threaded here and there, catching the light, were little crystalline beads. The reflected Sarah's hair was piled up on her head with a net made of silver thread and crystal beads. Tendrils of hair fell down to frame her face, and a small crown topped it all.

_Let me present to you the Goblin Queen, _Sarah thought, staring at this reflection of her. Then the reflection moved. It was eerie to watch. The Goblin Queen Sarah laughed, looking over her shoulder. Unable to watch anymore, Sarah moved on. There was a mirror that showed her the ballroom, and she was dancing in it with someone in a grotesque mask. Off to the side, leaning against the wall, she spied the Goblin King. He was watching her laugh and dance, a small smile on his face.

The deeper she went into the room, it seemed the less these were actually mirrors. They showed her things instead of reflecting anything back at her. She saw the Goblin King sitting on a window ledge, looking out over the Labyrinth, a crystal ball in his hand. When he looked into the crystal, his lips moved, but the mirror didn't seem able to transmit sound. Sarah stepped forward and touched the mirror, just where Jareth's face was, and felt something in her heart tug.

Suddenly, Jareth seemed to look straight at her, as if he had felt her touch. His lips moved and, to Sarah's horror and disbelief, they framed her name even if she couldn't hear him. The image disappeared and Sarah cried out. But, it was because she'd lost the view of Jareth that she saw Hoggle behind her—and he held a dagger, already poised to stab her in the back.

Sarah cried out, jumping to one side just in time. The dagger fell upon the mirror, cracking it, and it seemed like a gust of heat came from the crack, because Hoggle cried out and dropped the dagger, grabbing his hand as if he'd been burnt. Sarah took the opportunity to grab the dwarf. She was taller, but Hoggle was deceptively strong and he wiggled, too. Trying to keep a hold of him was a little like trying to hold a wet bar of soap. He slipped out and tackled Sarah, throwing her to the floor.

She cracked her head against the floor and laid there for a moment, dazed. Black dots swam across her vision. Hoggle sat on her chest, grabbed her throat, pushing two stubby thumbs against her windpipe and pressed. She choked, gasping for air and thrashing.

_No, Hoggle, no! I'm dying, you're killing me! _Sarah thought. She tried to say it, but it merely came out as a choked gurgle. Her vision was darkening. With the last of her strength, she reached up and grabbed his ears, yanking them as viciously as she could. Hoggle cried out and toppled off her chest. The grip on her neck loosened and Sarah gasped for breath.

Hoggle tried to crawl away, but Sarah managed to get to her knees and grab the dwarf's ankle. He kicked her and she dodged, the foot missing her nose by mere inches and grazing off her cheek with little damage. She grabbed the other ankle and yanked Hoggle closer to her, dragging him like a sack of potatoes. He thrashed, but she was bigger and when he was close enough, she pressed her elbow into his back, pinning him to the floor like a bug.

"I don't want to hurt you, Hoggle," she murmured in his ear. "Give up and I'll let you go."

Hoggle just cursed and thrashed more. Sarah opened her mouth to tell him she'd wallop him on the head if she had to—she wouldn't, no, she _couldn't _kill him—and that's when she spotted a wound just below his ear, at the base of his skull. It was oozing a small bubble of blood, so deep a red color it looked nearly black. Sarah touched it with her free hand and Hoggle gave an ear-piercing scream.

Something was poking out of the wound. It felt almost like the head of a pin. _What is that? _Sarah wondered, her fingers wrapping around it. It took a few moments to finally pull it free, it was slick with blood and often her grip slipped, but finally she managed to pull the object out with one vicious yank.

Hoggle screamed again. His body convulsed and his back arched, pushing against Sarah's elbow. She drove him down, trying to keep him straight so he wouldn't do any damage to himself. He gave another scream and fainted.

Sarah released him, leaned back, and looked at what she'd pulled out of him. She cleaned it on the edge of her T-shirt and saw that she held a long, needle-sharp thorn. She remembered the crow in the forest attacking her, a thorn in its beak.

Sarah shuddered and threw the thorn as far away from her as she could, then she drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs. She leaned her forehead against her knees and took deep, gasping breaths. Her throat hurt every time she swallowed. She touched the skin of her neck and winced. She was going to have some bad bruises.

After what might have been an hour or only a few minutes, Hoggle stirred and sat up. He looked around, confused, then down at his hands, and then he looked at Sarah. Realization dawned on his face, closely followed by horror and he jumped to his feet. For a moment, Sarah thought he would run, but he took the few steps so that he was in front of her and then fell to his knees, clasping his hands together.

"Sarah! I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" he said. "I'd never kill you! I loves you, you're my only friend!"

"I know, Hoggle," Sarah said, wearily.

"Kill me," Hoggle said, bowing his head. His shoulders were shaking and Sarah wondered if he was crying. His voice didn't give the answer away. "Kill me so I never do this to you again. Take your punishment from me. I wish I could Bog myself!"

"I'm not going to kill you or punish you, Hoggle. You were being controlled, like a puppet. You couldn't help what you did." Sarah paused and her eyes darkened. "Although, the more I'm here, the more I want to kill Leander."

Hoggle shuddered. "Let me help you. I'll do anything. I'll be a decoy. Leander can kill me so you can kill him."

"Shut up about this dying stuff, Hoggle."

Hoggle promptly fell silent and Sarah sighed, heaving herself to her feet. "Just get me to the throne room, alright?"

"Anything, Sarah." Hoggle nodded vigorously.

Sarah ran her hands through her hair and looked around the room, at all the Sarahs reflected back at her, some of them mimicking what she was doing, some of them not. She felt like laughing. A crazy hysteria bubbled inside of her and she wanted to tip back her head and let it all out in deep, gut-wrenching laughs. What could possibly be next?

_I think I'd rather cry than laugh, _Sarah thought, as she pushed down the urge. _But I'm going to do neither. I have to get to the throne room. I have to help Jareth._

She held out her hand to Hoggle. "Come on," she said. "We have to hurry."

* * *

**Author's Notes:** OK, so when I finished this chapter, it ended up longer than I liked. Since this story is being read online, I like to keep my chapters on the shorter side. As a result, my sneak peek is off. The chickens are in the next chapter, which should be uploaded sometime later today. I'd also like to thank everyone that's reviewed so far. Your comments are great and they sometimes even help me to think about what I'll be adding or editing for the next part. It's interesting, this story first came to me with one very specific scene -- Sarah's dream. From there, I quickly came up with the whole plotline, so in a way, I already know what's going to happen from start to finish. It's been very beneficial for getting updates done quickly. :) However, by your guys' reviews and reactions, I tweak what I've been planning as I go along. It's probably the most organic writing I've done.

Please keep the reviews coming! :)

(Jareth clears his throat. He's been standing behind CQ with his hands crossed over his chest and an unhappy look on his face)

Jareth: I have a bone to pick with you.

CQ: *sigh* Again? Is it because I didn't include you in this chapter?

Jareth: Yes! You keep going on about chickens, woman! The people came to read about _me!_

CQ: I know, I know, but I also want to give them a good story.

Jareth: Any story with more of me is a good story!

CQ: Well, that's true, but we can't have a story that just revolves around you and your tight pants, can we? *ponders this* I mean, don't we need a plot? This is a hard -- er, difficult question to answer...

Jareth: Speaking of me, I am a little unhappy at how I am being portrayed.

CQ: What do you mean?

Jareth: I'm so..._nice_! Where is the "such a pity" Jareth? The "nothing? Nothing, tra la!" Jareth? Where's the Goblin King that sent cleaners down a tunnel? I haven't even mocked Sarah in nearly five chapters!

CQ: Well, that's simple. Do you love Sarah, at least for the purposes of the story?

Jareth: Well...*ahem*, that is to say...

CQ: I'll take all that stammering as a "yes." And are you an inconsiderate asshole that just wants to jerk Sarah around?

Jareth: *stiffens* No!

CQ: So, at least for _The Clockwork Heart_, you don't want to jerk Sarah around and be mean to her because you are in love with her, am I right? Well, as a result, you're being _nice_, Goblin King. Welcome to normality!

Jareth: NOOOO!

CQ: Don't worry, you can still kick ass when you have to. After all, Leander's still walking around like he owns the place.

Jareth: *grins* You've got a point.

**The Fine Print:** *checks* Yeah, still don't anything regarding the Labyrinth. I only own my original characters.


	10. Killer Chickens

**Chapter Ten: Killer Chickens**

Sarah and Hoggle stayed silent as they climbed the stairs up to the second floor. Again, there was only one room visible, this time with large double doors that stood open, as if welcoming guests. Sarah hesitated and finally peeked inside; she just couldn't help herself. How many chances like this was she going to get?

What she saw made her gasp. Even without all the people, she recognized the luxuriant fabrics, the candles, the chandeliers—the bubbles. Since just minutes before she'd been looking into a mirror and seeing herself back in the ballroom dance, it seemed perfect that she was now staring into the very ballroom. But, it was empty and musty, and without the masquerade or Jareth, it didn't seem special. She turned away after a moment and went back to Hoggle, who looked like his old, annoyed self.

"You gonna take a detour for everything?"

"Come on, Hoggle, you know I couldn't resist _that_. The ballroom…" Sarah shook her head, trying to quell the memories. She'd spent plenty of time over the years reliving that one dance; the way everything had looked, how she had looked, how Jareth had looked—how it felt to be held by him. It wasn't necessary to rehash everything.

On the next floor, again Sarah had to take a detour, because here the one door open to her led into the Escher Room. She stood on top of a staircase, looking down into the pit that seemed to comprise only of more staircases, twisting and turning every which way. She shook her head and turned to Hoggle, who had followed her into this room.

"Do these lead anywhere or are they just for show?" Sarah asked. "Just to intimidate Labyrinth runners?"

"How should I know?" Hoggle asked, crossly. "I don't actually live here, ya know."

Sarah stared into open space, but what she was remembering was Jareth's expression when he'd offered her the crystal. _My dreams, _she thought. She wondered if she had taken the crystal then, would she be here now. Would any of this have happened? But, she had spoken a truth in the forest—her fifteen year old heart hadn't been much of a prize. She'd matured—or at least, she hoped so—and she felt more capable of intense emotions like love, passion…desire.

_What are you saying? _Sarah wondered, abruptly turning away. Hoggle had to half-run to keep up with her as she took the staircase up once more. _Passion and desire, okay, I can admit I feel those things for Jareth. I'd have to be dead _not _to feel anything for him, he's so damn beautiful. But, love? Let's not count the chickens before they hatch, Sarah dear._

In truth, Sarah was afraid to go anywhere beyond lust with the Goblin King. She didn't know where love would lead her. Could she live in the Labyrinth? Could she be a Queen? And worse, what about her mortality? The thought of living in the castle, slowly aging while Jareth stayed perfect, until finally he grew bored of her filled her with a shuddering dread. No, it was all well and good to have the occasional adventure with a supernatural being, but _love? _That was stuff for the fairytales.

They stepped off onto another floor and Hoggle frowned. "This ain't right. The throne room should be done that hallway, but…"

Sarah looked around. She immediately saw what troubled Hoggle: there were no doors or a staircase, just a long hallway that went off to the right, into the darkness. Even here, the plants had managed to break through walls. Tendrils came off the stalks and leaves bloomed. Sarah was tempted to pluck at the leaves, but she didn't want to touch the plants.

Hoggle cursed. "The castle's changed! We're gonna haveta find the staircase."

Sarah didn't want to go into the hallway. It was dark and reminded her of all the places she didn't like going as a kid—her mother's walk-in closet, the attic, parking lots late at night—but she squared her shoulders and followed Hoggle. She took out the penlight and fished out the Swiss Army Knife, flicking it open one-handed.

They rounded a corner and Sarah stopped, cocking her head as she heard a rustling noise. "Did you hear that?"

"I ain't heard nothin'." Hoggle looked around nervously, but his night vision seemed even worse than hers, if the stumbling was any indication. "Let's get to the throne room. No more slowin'!"

"Right."

They walked a few steps more. The rustling got louder and now there was some definite skittering noises, too. Sarah stopped, feeling her heart pound and her hand squeezed the Swiss Army Knife. _I've heard these noises before, _Sarah thought, her mind reeling. It was surrounding them now. Sarah felt something brush against her ankles and she cried out, jumping back.

Hoggle stopped and turned to her, his eyes white in the darkness. "Wha—?"

"Something touched me!" Sarah hissed in a whispered breath.

"There ain't anything…" Hoggle faded away, frowning and said, "I've heard that sound 'fore…"

"Yes, I know," Sarah whispered. She didn't know why she whispered. Anyone would know she and Hoggle where there by now. Her palms were sweating, she could hear the pounding of her heart in her ears, and her breathing was harsh. Why were the lights off? Why was there so much magic, why couldn't this be a simple hallway?

Suddenly, from the darkness, red eyes glowed. Fear clutched at Sarah's heart as she lifted the penlight with a trembling hand. It was just enough light to see shapes and outlines. Teeming in the hallway were chickens, at least two dozen, crowding in the hallway and barring their way. Their eyes were glowing red and even without touching anything, Sarah could feel the malice coming off of them in waves.

The goblins loved chickens. Sarah had never understood the appeal. Baby chicks were cute enough, but the goblins only liked grown chickens. Sarah had caught the goblins sneaking chickens into her apartment before, trying to make it more "homey." She had forbidden them from bringing poultry, to which they had grudgingly agreed. But, afterwards, she'd shuddered every time she remembered how the feathers had rustled and the feet had skittered across the tile floors. Chickens could be really creepy if they wanted to.

_And right now, they're being really, really creepy, _Sarah thought.

"Hoggle?" Sarah whispered. "What's going on?"

"I—I think they're like I was," Hoggle said, moving back a few steps so he was next to Sarah.

Before Sarah could say another word, the red eyes flared and then the chickens ran forward, their wings flapping, and making screeching and clucking noises. Sarah screamed and managed to shield her face just in time. Feathery bodies hit her and she felt little talons rake across the skin of her arms, causing scratches. She stumbled back a few steps. All she could hear were the flapping of the wings and the clucking noises. When she managed to squeeze open her eyes, all she saw was red glowing eyes.

"Hoggle!" She screamed, shielding her face again as a chicken tried to peck out her eyes. Instead, it scored bloody gouges into her hands. She cried out, batting the chicken away.

"Sarah!" Hoggle grabbed a chicken and threw it over his shoulder. The chicken merely fluttered to the ground, wheeled around, then returned.

_Even in Zelda, all you could do was run, _Sarah thought, feeling panic swell in her chest like a balloon. She swiped out in front of her with her Swiss Army Knife. She heard a chicken screech in pain and it veered away from her.

"Sarah! Run!" Hoggle said, kicking a chicken. "I'll try and keep as many from ya as I can."

"No." Sarah grabbed the wing of one chicken and threw it against the wall. She felt really bad about hurting the chickens, but it was either them or her. "Hoggle—"

"_RUN!_" Hoggle screamed as he grabbed one chicken with one hand and another with his other, then kicked a third.

The authority in the little dwarf's voice couldn't be ignored. Sarah felt a surge of adrenaline and she did run then, before she had really thought anything through. She surged forward, cutting through chickens like a boat through water. A few scored more gouges on any skin that was visible. A particularly crafty chicken even managed to snag a claw into Sarah's cheek, giving her a bloody gash. She cried out, running into the wall. She bounced off it and kept running down the hallway. She rounded the corner with only a few chickens following her and in front of her was a large, wood door. A light was coming out from underneath. As Sarah ran closer to it, the chickens clucked and fell back. They would not approach the door.

Sarah knew where it led: the throne room. She would go there. She dodged around a stalk that came out of the wall. It snagged with the sleeve of her T-shirt, but her momentum was too fast to just stop and her shirt ripped, the sleeve came free. She nearly didn't stop in time and smashed into the door, but she managed to skid to a stop with just her hands pressed against the wood. It was warm underneath her hands.

Sarah pressed her forehead against the wood, trying to catch her breath. On the other side, she heard raised voices, the sound of scuffling, and the metallic noise of swords clashing. Sarah shuddered, feeling like an ice cube had been dragged along her spine. She recognized one of the angry voices.

_Jareth, _she thought, grabbing the knob and pulling the door open.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Not the chickens! Well, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, it's a shorty I know, but I've been horribly busy. I should be able to get one more chapter up this weekend. Also, I've begun a weblog called "Cordite Quill's Corner." While it will have general blogging, every time I upload a fanfiction chapter, I also will write an accompanying weblog entry (kind of like a commentary track on a DVD :D). Also, if you'd like to know the progress of my projects or discuss upcoming projects or things about the stories, that's where to go.

The link to the weblog (and the commentary entry) is on my profile page. (There's even evil chickens! :P)

(Jareth appears, clearing his throat)

CQ: Yes, Jareth?

Jareth: I feel like I am not offered enough story time in "The Clockwork Heart." Am I even going to be there next chapter? I've just been hanging out in my trailer, eating peaches and working on my wardrobe. I'm thinking a strike may be in order. No tight pants for anyone until I'm written into the story!

CQ: Would you like to know that you're in the next chapter -- and you get to be the hero?

Jareth: Really?

CQ: Oh yes, it's all very dramatic. You'll like it, I promise. Just, don't withhold the tight pants, OK? I don't know if my readership will stand for it.

Jareth: Hmm, well, I suppose I can wait one chapter before I do anything rash...

And in case you didn't know this...thank you my wonderful readers for your continuing support and reviews. I hope you will continue to honor me with your encouraging words. They really do help me to continue, so please review with your comments/suggestions. :)

**The Fine Print:** I don't own anything in regards to the Labyrinth. All I own is my original characters.


	11. Dreams Come True

**Chapter Eleven: Dreams Come True **

The throne room barely looked like a room anymore. The plants that grew out of it where breaking through the floors and the walls, causing huge cracks. The windows were broken, glass littering the floor and glittering like tears. The only area that seemed untouched was the area surrounding the throne.

Sarah hesitated at the threshold. It didn't look very stable in there, yet the Goblin King and Leander fought within the space. Sarah watched, fearfully, as the Goblin King parried Leander's sword. His face was calm, determined; his arched eyebrows sloped down over his eyes. There was no mercy there, and a lethal purpose glittered in the depths of both blue and black eyes. Leander had a feral grin on his face as he expertly swept and thrust with the strange sword from Sarah's dream. Every time the sword came in contact with Jareth's, the red jewel in the hilt glowed.

Sarah felt frozen, unsure of what to do. The sound of metal on metal echoed through her mind as Jareth and Leander swirled around each other. They were beautiful; it could make the heart ache. It was like the sun and the moon—Jareth with his fair hair and pale skin and Leander with his dark hair and bronzed skin. They were so graceful; they looked like they were dancing.

Suddenly, Leander's eyes flashed as he saw an opening and he took it, slashing Jareth across the arm. Jareth reacted quickly, so that what would have sliced his arm clean off only gave him a large, bloody gash and ripped his sleeve open. Jareth snarled, teeth flashing, but otherwise he didn't show any pain. He parried the next blow, driving Leander back.

From the corner of Sarah's eye, she saw something move. A plant uncurled, pulling free of the wall, along with crumbled stonework that rained down onto the floor. The plant straightened and the tip of the stalk was needle-sharp. Sarah gasped, whirled back towards the figures in the room, and screamed Jareth's name.

Jareth looked up, moving just in time to avoid having the plant pierce his heart. Instead, the plant embedded into his shoulder, driving him back against the wall. Jareth cried out, blood drenching his clothes. Sarah's scream stuck in her mouth.

The crystalline sword flared brightly, then disappeared. Leander's grin grew as he took a few steps toward Jareth. The tip of his sword made a grating noise against the stone floor, causing little sparks to shoot off of it.

"Do you know," Leander said, "that letting you fools wander around this castle has been highly amusing for me. But, I think it's time the games end, don't you?" He lifted the sword. Jareth's gaze traveled over his shoulder and met Sarah's.

Leander drew back the sword and said, "Don't worry, I'll take care of her."

Jareth's eyes flared. His face twisted with rage and a crystal appeared in his hands. However, he didn't get a chance to do anything, because Sarah screamed, "_NO!_" and leaped at Leander's back.

Dimly, she heard Jareth yell her name.

Her world had narrowed; everything was tinged red. The only thing going through her mind was that Jareth couldn't die. For that moment, it didn't matter that she had dreamt her death in this room, nor that she didn't have any offensive magic. She slung her arm around Leander's throat and stabbed him in the neck with her Swiss Army Knife. Leander screamed, rearing and whirling around.

Sarah withdrew and stabbed Leander again. He grabbed her arm and twisted it until the knife fell out of it, but he kept twisting her arm back until Sarah felt something snap. Pain rolled over her like a wave. She screamed. At the edge of her mind, she heard Jareth roar with anger, but her vision was blurred with tears and she couldn't see anything.

Her grip loosened as nausea rolled over her. She fought to stay conscious. Leander grabbed her by the throat. Sarah gripped his wrist, choking. A black wave rolled over her and when it cleared, she was looking into Leander's enraged, dark eyes. Leander threw her into the throne and Sarah's head cracked against the wood with a soft _thud _noise. Black spots danced across her eyes.

Leander bent and picked up the sword. With the other hand, he pressed it to his neck and when the hand fell away, the wound had already scabbed over.

"Leander, I will kill you for hurting Sarah," Jareth hissed. He was gripping the plant, his hand glowing red-hot. The plant was twitching, as if it could feel the pain from whatever magic Jareth was doing.

"You're a fool, Jareth. By falling in love with this stupid mortal, you gave her some of your powers. When you did that, you doomed her to death." Leander walked towards the throne, a sneer across his handsome face.

_I need to run, _Sarah thought. Blood dripped into her eyes. She couldn't seem to get her feet to work and merely flopped on the throne like a fish.

"I will be Goblin King," Leander murmured so softly Sarah wasn't sure Jareth heard him. But she could; the words seemed to burn into her brain. "If I can't be King, why was I created?"

He drew back the sword.

"No," Sarah said, weakly.

"NO! _SARAH!_" Jareth screamed.

Leander plunged the sword into Sarah, just like her dream. She screamed as he impaled her, the cold steel cutting through her chest just missing her heart. _Oh god! It hurts, it hurts! _Sarah thought. Mercilessly, Leander extracted the sword. Sarah's back arched from the pain.

The steel blade was scarlet from her blood. It dripped onto the floor. She looked up to Leander's eyes. There was only cruelty in that look. He didn't hesitate as he plunged the sword into her again. She screamed again. She felt strangely detached from her body, which had grown numb. In fact, she felt exhausted. She just wanted to close her eyes…

Suddenly, Jareth was there. He had a glowing crystal. It flared so brightly that it hurt her eyes. He pushed it against Leander's chest, however his grip on the sword hit didn't loosen. He sliced through Sarah's heart.

The crystal was obscured in Jareth's hand as it was pushed against Leander's skin. Light burst from between his fingers. It flowed out like oil, bathing the room in brightness. Jareth's and Leander's hair and clothes swept back, as if by a heavy gust of air. Leander screamed, throwing a hand over his eyes to protect them from the light. He grabbed the hilt of the sword and the red jewel flared; the light mixing with the yellow light from Jareth's crystal. Leander disappeared. No longer impaled by the sword, Sarah slid sideways.

Sarah must have closed her eyes, because the next thing she knew, Jareth was calling her name. She felt his fingers brush against her hand, smoothing her fingers open, and place a crystal ball onto her palm. It was just a few degrees below burning and Sarah cried out. He closed her fingers around it, desperately calling her name.

Sarah opened her eyes. It felt like trying to claw away the darkness that was trying to suck her under. It took a great deal of effort, but finally she could see his face. He was bleeding, dirty, and a sheen of sweat glittered on his forehead. His hair was disheveled, his clothes torn. Moisture glistened on his cheek and Sarah wondered if he was crying. Sarah felt something swell inside of her.

"Sarah, I will not let you leave me to wander this world alone."

_I need to tell you, that I think I… _Sarah thought, but her lips wouldn't move. _No, I _know _that I…_

Sarah fell into the darkness.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Ahem...yay cliffhanger? Don't hurt me! I'll update soon! XD I've added a commentary blog post (a link to my blog can be found on my profile page).

(Jareth sits on a sofa with a bag of popcorn on his lap. Next to him, Sarah sits, trying not to look angry)

Jareth: You truly are an evil woman, CQ. What was Sarah trying to tell me at the end?

Sarah: More importantly -- did you just kill me off? You can't kill me off! I'm the main POV character!

CQ: Er...um...look, is that a bunch of fierys? *points*

Jareth & Sarah: What? Where?

(CQ runs away)

**Please review!**

**The Fine Print:** I don't own anything in regards to the Labyrinth; just my original characters.


	12. A Heart Lost, A Heart Found

**Chapter Twelve: A Heart Lost, A Heart Found**

Sarah spiraled in and out of nightmares. She dreamed about burning fire that ate her insides. She screamed for someone—she could see his face, the soft golden hair, the mismatched eyes…

"_Do not leave me, Sarah."_

She heard his voice in her dreams, reached out for him in the darkness of her mind, but she never seemed able to catch him. She dreamed of pain, horrible pain that engulfed her whole body. She dreamed of dark, cruel eyes in a bronze skinned face. Black hair tickled her face and a voice murmured in her ear, "Once upon a time, the Goblin King fell in love with a mortal girl and gave her certain powers…and because of those powers, you will die."

"_Sarah? Wake up, Precious…please."_

She dreamed of the bubble ballroom, except Jareth wasn't there. Sarah was dancing with men who wore grotesque goblin masks, in fine clothes that dazzled Sarah's eyes, but she was always looking for one person. _Jareth_, the name was on the tip of her tongue, just behind her lips. She had to tell him something. She danced with a man in blue brocade, but she looked over his shoulder desperately. The man twirled her and suddenly a hand gripped her elbow. She looked to see Leander's face. Her heart raced as he drew her close into a modern dance.

He twirled her but instead of snapping back to him, she turned and began running away. She burst through the bubble, away from the ballroom, and she heard him laugh behind her. She turned and while he just walked at a comfortable pace, he was gaining on her.

"_You don't need to dream anymore, Precious…"_

Leander's sword entered her through her back, slicing her heart, pinning her to the floor like a bug. Sarah gasped as pain blossomed like a flower. She whimpered, unable to move, as she felt Leander lean his weight on the hilt in order to slide the steel deeper by a few inches.

"NO!" Sarah opened her eyes and tried to sit up, but her whole upper body ached. She lay back down, feeling comfortable, cotton sheets against her skin and a pillow under her head. The ceiling was wood panels, like a cabin. Sarah frowned. Then, she noticed the smell. Spicy—cinnamon, wood, fresh dirt, and something more just below the surface; it was achingly familiar, it was _his _smell, and it was everywhere. Sarah turned her head towards the wall and brought the sheets to her nose, taking a deep breath. It was in the sheets.

_Where am I? Why am I not dead? _Sarah threw the sheets off of her and pulled up the simple, cotton shirt she wore. Dimly, she noted that it was one of the T-shirts from her backpack. She no longer wore a bra.

There was a horrible scar just off-center of her breasts, where Leander's sword had entered her flesh. The scar was red, bumpy, and about the size of a fist. Sarah felt her heart flutter in shock.

_My heart…_ she pressed her hand to her flesh, searching for the familiar noise. For a moment, she couldn't feel anything, but finally underneath her palm she felt the _thump-thump, thump-thump _of her heart. _What happened?_

"My, my," a familiar voice said, dripping with familiar amusement and cheekiness. "All I hoped for was that you would open your eyes again. Everything else would be a bonus, I thought. Who knew I would be rewarded in such a wonderful way?"

Sarah turned. Sitting in a chair was Jareth. He looked tired and drawn, his skin tight against his cheeks with dark circles underneath his eyes. She had her shirt up and she was touching just below her left boob _in front of the Goblin King_. She jerked her shirt down, a blush spreading across her face.

"Jareth," she said, her voice slightly high-pitched. "I'm…alive?" She didn't mean to make it sound like a question. She wanted to sound strong and confident.

"Yes." Jareth smiled and it reached his eyes.

Sarah jerked her gaze away and looked around. They really were in a cabin. It had just enough room for a small sink, ice chest, and a pot-bellied stove. Cabinets lined the wall over the sink. There was a small bookshelf next to the bed, which was empty. At the center of the room was a dining table just big enough for one person and a chair. The whole cabin could have probably fit in Sarah's living room—and she didn't have a large apartment.

"Where are we? What happened? How am I still alive?"

"One question at a time, Precious." Jareth shifted, his long pale fingers massaging his temples.

"A-are you okay?" Sarah held out a hand, as if she could examine Jareth, but after a moment she let it fall back to the sheets.

"Yes, my injuries were minor in comparison. And I have better healing powers, as well." Jareth hooked a finger to the collar of his shirt. He was wearing a simple poet's shirt with a large collar and ruffled sleeves. He pulled the collar away from his skin, showing off his shoulder, which had a lumpy scar that looked a lot like Sarah's, only smaller.

"How am _I _still alive? He stabbed me in the heart," Sarah said.

Jareth looked away. "I gave you a heart."

Sarah blinked. "Literally? How…I mean, that seems…it seems a little…_what?_"

Jareth sighed and went to the only window in the cabin. He stared outside, as if searching for something, and then said, "Do you remember what happened after…"

"I thought I died." Sarah didn't like to think about it, so she quickly added, "Nothing much, just bad dreams…"

"I was able to hurt him badly, it will take him a few days to recover from the magical attack," Jareth said. "He escaped. I took you to the Goblin City and kept you alive with magic." He made a gesture and a crystal ball appeared in his hand. Unlike his other ones, this crystal was opaque and cloudy. He tossed the crystal and it disappeared a second after leaving his hands. "It was a temporary fix, I knew I had to find another heart for you."

"Another heart?" Sarah prompted when Jareth fell silent.

He shivered, as if rousing himself. "Do you remember the monster you fought at the gates of the city?"

"Yes." She closed her eyes, remembering the lumbering giant made of gears and magic, manipulated by goblins. She remembered the way the ground rumbled as it approached; the tang of fear as she held her ground as long as she could.

"Same technology," Jareth said. "I created a clockwork heart to replace the one you lost. Probably my best creation, sophisticated, beautiful, it saved you."

Sarah pressed a hand to her chest again. Her brain felt like it was whirling through a tornado inside her skull. She couldn't fathom what he was saying. Underneath her hand she could hear her heart beating, pumping blood through her body, but that wasn't possible was it? Leander had sliced through her heart, making it useless.

"A clockwork heart," Sarah whispered.

"Yes." Jareth turned away from the window and knelt by the bed. He reached out to take her hand, but stopped halfway, instead resting it atop the white sheets. "It's better than a human heart made of flesh. It'll never weaken, never die. But, there is a catch."

"A catch?" Sarah felt a little dizzy. She wanted to close her eyes and rest her forehead on her knees, but she couldn't break her gaze away from Jareth's face. His mismatched eyes were several shades darker than usual; the blue like stormy waters, the black like the night sky.

"The heart keeps beating because of magic. You must have a steady stream of magic near your heart otherwise you'll die," Jareth said, slowly.

The expression on his face said that this information was important, but Sarah couldn't grasp what he meant. She had probably reached her quota for shocking news for the week. She shook her head and said, "I don't understand."

"There…there is magic everywhere in the Underground. Here, your heart will beat steady and true…"

Sarah sucked in a breath. She felt like she'd been sucker punched in the stomach. Her eyes widened and she said, "Are you telling me, Jareth, that I have to stay in the Underground if I want to live?"

Jareth's mouth pressed into a thin line. He looked away, but the expression was answer enough. Sarah began hyperventilating as she thought about it. The Underground, with the Labyrinth at its heart, which was a sentient magical being who had orchestrated this whole thing and Jareth wanted her to live here. Even putting aside the cold, cruel streak of the Labyrinth, what was there in the Underground for her? The place was alien to her. She would never experience the things she loved again: the smell of the ocean, the crowded urban landscape, hanging out with her friends, a hot slice of pizza from _Uptown Pizza _late at night. Looking into human eyes and feeling a connection; humanity felt between two souls.

"Sarah, breathe—"

"My god!" Sarah exploded. She pushed off the covers and got to her feet, despite Jareth's protests and the aching pain in every inch of her body. "How could you do this to me?"

"I had to Sarah!" Jareth stood. His face had closed like a shuttered window. It was an old, arrogant expression and one Sarah had never especially liked. His eyes flashed, angrily. "What did you expect me to do? Let you die? I couldn't do that!"

"I am human!" Sarah thumped herself on the chest, ignoring the spark of pain from the movement. "Humans die! I took the risk, I must have known the chances somewhere in my mind. But now you've taken away my choices! How could you?"

_Sarah, stop this! You're being stupid! _A voice in her head told her, but Sarah was too far panicked to pay attention.

She laughed. "You finally got what you want."

"Excuse me?"

Sarah cupped her hands as if she were holding a crystal. She mimicked Jareth's body language, a hand on her hip, and offered the non-existent crystal ball to Jareth. "My 'dreams', remember?"

"I saved you!"

"You've imprisoned me!" Sarah threw up her hands. "How can I expect you to understand? You're not human!"

Sarah was blind with fear of the unknown, which usually sparked her temper. Anger felt better than fear. Propelled by this anger, she grabbed the front door of the cabin and wrenched it open, slamming it behind her.

Heat hit her face and she stopped at the cabin's threshold, looking around in disbelief. The cabin was in the middle of a desert. All around her, for as far as the eye could see, were soft hills of golden sand. The sky was a bright blue, annoyingly familiar until Sarah realized it was the shade of Jareth's eye when he smiled. The sun was a bright, fiery globe, beating down on her. Almost immediately, sweat broke out on her face. The air was hot as it entered her nostrils. Sarah leaned against the side of the cabin, looking around with desperation. She couldn't go anywhere.

The heat coupled with the weakness she felt—she wasn't completely healed from her injuries—helped to slowly drain away her anger. After a few moments, she only felt bone-weary. She tipped her head back, looking at the sky, and wondering how her life could become so radically changed in less than a day.

_Or has it been longer? I don't even know how long I was in Jareth's care, _Sarah thought.

Jareth. When Sarah thought she was dying, she had wanted with every fiber of her being to tell Jareth something before she died. Now, she seemed to have gone back to square one—she couldn't even admit it to herself. But, the feelings at death had been strong and couldn't be ignored. What did she really feel? She remembered the mirror room and seeing herself as the Goblin Queen.

_If things had turned out differently, and Jareth had killed Leander, then _asked _me, what would I have said? _Sarah chewed her lower lip. What had changed? He'd saved her life the only way he knew how; she was just afraid. She'd always been afraid of what Jareth offered.

The door opened and Jareth stepped outside. He closed it behind him and leaned against the opposite wall, the door between them. He didn't look at her, only at the desert landscape. For a few minutes, they were silent, just looking. It was a strangely beautiful place, there was a desolate loneliness and purity to it.

"You're right, of course," Jareth said, suddenly. "I'm not human. I have never been. I was born here, you know, in that very cabin. I came into existence, just like that. One moment, I wasn't there, the next, I was as you see me now."

Sarah looked at Jareth, surprised, but Jareth didn't turn towards her. After a few moments silence, he said, "I lived here for…a long time. I don't know how long, 'time' didn't mean very much to me and even then I was an immortal being. I didn't know why I existed and I didn't have a name. I suppose it isn't surprising that the cabin fever got to me. I began to wander the desert for as long as I could, but it never ended and I eventually would trial back to the cabin. And then I heard the Labyrinth's voice."

Jareth looked at her, his face expressionless. "You heard it, so you know the unflinching power in it. It was a godsend for me, at the time, for I was lonely and perhaps a little crazy. The Labyrinth told me I was chosen for its king. It gave me a purpose, magic—and a name. For giving me a name alone I would have done anything for it. This time, when I left the cabin I flew over the skies," Jareth tipped back his head, his eyes searching the sky, as if tracing his path, "and saw the extent of the Underground. I found the Labyrinth at its heart. The castle was already there. I spent a long time being lonely in that castle, as well, until the Labyrinth told me that a king needed subjects, and so I began answering the wishes, taking children who were thrown away or lost, and they turned into goblins. They could play and be happy forever, and I was no longer lonely."

Sarah shook her head. "Why are you telling me this?"

Jareth met her gaze and shrugged. "I am not human. Perhaps if I was, when I asked you to stay with me so many years ago, you would have said yes."

_Oh god, it's happening. This moment has finally arrived, _Sarah thought. There was a lump in her throat, reacting to the cold detachment in Jareth's face. She could understand the look. Sometimes it was safer not to feel.

Sarah gave a small, twisted smile. "I'd've said no, regardless, because I was too young."

Jareth searched her face, looking for something, and then he sighed and leaned back against the wall. He looked at the eyes, searching again, but it seemed he couldn't find it because his expression was bleak and tired. He said, "I will find a way to take you home—to the Aboveground. I promise, Sarah."

Looking at Jareth's profile, hearing the selfless promise—the very thing she _needed _to hear—and now that the panicked anger had receded, Sarah felt something growing in her heart. She thought of the mirror room, about the last eleven years of her life. She thought about the Labyrinth when she was fifteen, and about its King. Things had changed so much from then. She was older now, and in some ways, Jareth seemed older, too. She thought of the easy innocence of the goblins and how happy she was when they visited her, even though they could be pesky, like baby-sitting little kids.

She thought about this recent visit to the Labyrinth. Jareth _asked _her for help. He _asked _her to touch the plant. He kept her safe, looked for her, and healed her; he respected her space when she asked for it. He thought of her, asked her to go home, but she'd followed him.

Sarah pressed a hand to her heart and felt the reassuring _thump-thump, thump-thump _underneath her palm. Jareth's profile was angular and harsh, but she knew it could soften when he smiled. When he smiled, his eyes lit up like jewels. She wanted him to smile more often; he was beautiful when he smiled. Leander couldn't hold a candle in a mile radius to him when he smiled.

"You know, it's funny," Sarah said, pressing her back against the wall. The wooden planks were hot and reassuring. What she was about to say would take all her courage and she couldn't look at him. "Sometimes I feel like we're still doing that dance in the ballroom. I'm looking for something—I don't know what—and you're looking at me and somewhere along the line, bam, we dance for a while and then I run away."

She took a deep breath, feeling the dry air in her lungs. She wasn't used to the desert climate. "Eleven years that sometimes feels like it has gone in the blink of an eye. You know, I was really angry at you for most of my fifteenth year—and really angry at myself. I thought I was stupid for saying no to the fairyland fantasy. I mean, what princess in the stories ever gets offered what I was offered and says 'no'? I was angry at you for being something I could say no to. But, when I was sixteen I kind of realized why I said no."

That had also been the first time she'd had a boyfriend and a group of close friends. She realized that if she'd gone with Jareth, she'd have missed everything life as a human would have offered. But, she didn't explain this to Jareth. Some memories were private.

"I was free to feel other things for you. I had this huge crush on you all through high school." Sarah laughed, embarrassed to be admitting this. "I even had a Victorian style gown for prom. Corset top, long skirts, lace edgings. It took a summer of part-time work to afford it. I made my boyfriend wear a poet's shirt to match it. He hated it." Sarah laughed again, remembering the look on his face.

"Now that I think about it," Sarah said, "we only knew each other from that night I ran the Labyrinth and we only talked—what? Six times? Seven? But, in a way, you affected me for the years to come. Knowing you changed _me_."

"What are you saying, Sarah?" Jareth was looking at her.

Sarah took a few hesitant steps towards him and cupped his face. "Thank you, Jareth, for saving my life."

She looked into his eyes and saw a flash of something. Hope. Her heart began to pound. She frowned, feeling dizzy, and a moment later she felt Jareth's arms envelope her and press her close. She leaned her head against his chest.

"I feel dizzy."

"You aren't yet healed. The heart is new, it'll take some time to get used to it. Let's go inside, you need to rest."

"No, I have more to say…" Another wave of dizziness and Sarah pressed her face against Jareth, smelling that exotic scent of his.

"Later," Jareth promised. He brushed back the hair from her forehead to press a kiss to her forehead.

He took her inside and she stumbled only once with his sure arms around her. He helped her lay back on the bed. When he turned away, Sarah reached out and grabbed his wrist. He met her eyes.

"No more nightmares," Sarah whispered.

Jareth brought the chair over, stretching out his arm to grab it so Sarah wouldn't have to release her hold on him. He sat down next to her and touched her cheek. She suddenly felt very tired. Was it his doing or was it everything else that had happened to her finally hitting her all at once? She closed her eyes and felt Jareth's gentle touch on her eyelids.

"No more nightmares," he promised, his voice soft. It was the last thing she heard as she fell asleep.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Yeah, so it was pretty obvious Sarah wasn't going to die. Originally, I was going to have this chapter longer to include what is obviously going to happen next, but I wanted the moment Jareth and Sarah finally admit what they feel for each other to be its own chapter. Plus, I find myself at a quandry: should I keep the T rating (and have the romance stuff match the rating) or raise it to an M (for some detailed smut)? What do you guys think? **Review and let me know!** I definitely want to know what you, gentle readers, think!

Finally the reason for the title of the story has been revealed. I've been planning this for a long while, basically since I began! What did you guys think? :) And yes, the cat's out of the bag. Next time, Sarah and Jareth finally get together! Whee! :)

**The Fine Print:** I don't own anything in regards of the Labyrinth except my original characters.


	13. No More Running

**Important Note, PLEASE READ:** _To better adhere to 's requirements, I've cut out the naughty scene in here. The Clockwork Heart, in all it's M+ glory (with the deleted scene) can be found at my website. The link is under the profile page, or go to: corditequill . wordpress . com_

_However, due to some heavy make-out scenes, I kept the rating M. :) Enjoy!  
_

* * *

**Chapter Thirteen: No More Running**

Sarah was looking up at the sky and it was beautiful. She'd always lived in a city, so she'd never been able to see the night sky very crisply. Now, she tipped her head back and all she could see where millions of stars sprinkled across the sky like jewels in a black net. Strangely, there was no moon, but that only made the stars even brighter. They twinkled above her, some softly colored, others as white and pure as fresh snow. Looking at them made her heart swell with happiness and a blanket of tranquility settled over her shoulders.

When her neck began to ache, she finally lowered her head and began massaging it. _Where am I? _She wondered. _Is this a dream? _It was a nice change—the last few dreams she'd had had turned into nightmares, foretelling her death.

"Sarah?" a familiar voice said.

Sarah jumped and looked up. Jareth was standing there. They stood on soft, green grass that extended as far as the eye could see. It was a hilly landscape and they stood at the crest of one of the hills. Jareth looked beautiful with the stars as his background. His hair was soft, puffy wisps that arched away to border his angular face. His eyes were wide and questioning. He was wearing the owl coat over a black poet's shirt, black pants, and black boots. He wasn't wearing gloves. Sarah felt her heart pick up speed as she looked him over. He caught her assessing gaze and grinned, preening a little. _Arrogant bastard, _she thought, fondly.

"Jareth?" Sarah looked around. "Where are we?"

Jareth, to her surprise, cocked his head slightly to the right and laughed. "My, my, Precious Thing, when will you stop amazing me?"

"What?"

"Remember I told you that dreams are just one step below wishes?" Was it her imagination or had his voice dipped, becoming more like a caress? It made her shiver. "It seems you are now able to enter into _another_'s dream."

For a moment, she wasn't quite sure what he was telling her, and then her eyebrows shot up until they nearly touched her hairline and she said, "Is that where we are? Your dream?"

"Yes, mine." Jareth took a step closer and for a moment, Sarah had the urge to step back, but instead she squared her shoulders and held her ground. Jareth took another step. "But, before, I am usually alone here, looking at the sky."

"You seem to be alone a lot," Sarah said, her voice barely above a whisper. She watched with wide eyes as Jareth took another tantalizing step closer and she could smell his scent; that exotic, spicy fragrance that she'd come to associate so intimately with him. There was something in the way he moved and the way he looked at her—desire, longing, and yet underneath all that, his eyes _demanded _from her, challenged her. They seemed to say, _"Run now, because I won't let you get away later."_ Her heart was beating so quickly.

Jareth took another step closer to her. He was now an arm's length away and he reached out to touch her hair, sliding a few strands between his fingers. Then, lightly, he let his fingertips dance across the sensitive skin underneath her jaw. The touch was so light it was a step away from ticklish; it made Sarah shudder.

"Yes, I do find myself alone often," Jareth said. There was no self-pity in his voice; he was just saying a simple fact.

_Oh god, what's going to happen to me? _Sarah wondered. She didn't fear Jareth; through this whole adventure she had come to realize something: he wouldn't hurt her. He'd given her a new heart, after all. She could no longer fear him as her fifteen year old self had done. She still felt fascinated by him; she still desired him; but she could no longer fear him. However, she feared the Labyrinth, which he was a part of, and she feared her future, which was now so intimately tied with the Underground and its King. And, perhaps most of all, she feared these powers that he had given her.

Jareth must have seen the hesitation in her eyes because his body language changed. His eyes, which had almost glowed with intensity a moment before, banked and became dark. He shifted and suddenly Sarah was enveloped in strong arms, pressed against the Goblin King's chest. The owl feathers brushed against her cheek, tickling her, but it was a pleasant feeling. She melted into his embrace, pressing her nose into his shirt and took deep breaths, inhaling musk, spice, and leafy greenery—inhaling Jareth's smell.

Jareth laughed again, and the sound rumbled deep in his chest. "I am such a fool for you, Precious Thing. Sometimes, you make me so powerless and confused, I cannot stand to face myself in the mirror."

Sarah grinned. "Are you telling me, Jareth, that you like me against your will, against your reason, and even against your character?"

"Yes."

"I don't believe it for a minute." She tipped her head back to look him in the face, but what she saw wiped the grin from her. The emotions battling for dominance within his eyes were so hot and intense that they made her quake. She whispered, not sure what she was saying but driven by what she saw in his eyes, "_But what no one knew was that the goblin king fell in love with her and gave her certain powers_…"

Jareth shuddered, his eyes briefly closing. "_Yes_."

Sarah's heart was beating so fast she could hear it in her ears. She stepped back, the emotions from Jareth were too much—her own emotions were too much—and to top everything off, this was a dream. In the end, it all could mean nothing. But, Jareth's arms were like steel bands and they would not let her go. She struggled, trying to loosen his grip, and tipped her head up to tell him to let her go. Instead, his mouth found hers.

The kiss was electricity through her body. His lips were soft and achingly sweet, but the kiss was wild and demanded a reaction from her. She circled her arms around his shoulders, feeling the soft feathers of his coat, and pressed her body against his. He moaned, and Sarah, too far gone now to really think of anything save the rollercoaster feelings inside her and that aching lump where her heart was, touched the tip of her tongue to his lip, tracing it teasingly. It was an invitation as well as a challenge, one Jareth took. The kiss deepened. For a few moments, there was no sound and finally they had to break away to breathe.

Sarah looked at Jareth with wide eyes. She pressed a hand to her heart and Jareth followed the movement, desire sparking in his eyes. It made Sarah weak, looking at him looking at _her _that way. Underneath her palm she could feel the strong beat of her heart. _I've never felt this way for anyone before, _she realized, and then she realized something else. Before she'd decided if it was wise to voice the thought, the words tumbled out of her mouth: "Jareth, you remade my heart."

Jareth frowned. His expression had changed to suspicion and weariness now, perhaps because of the look in her eyes. "Yes?" he said.

Well, the mood was ruined by her big fat mouth, so might as well say what was on her mind. She tipped her chin up, her gaze stubborn, and said, "Is that why I feel these things so intensely with you, because you remade my heart?"

Jareth's eyes widened in surprise at the question and then he turned away, looking over her shoulder at something she couldn't see. Finally, he shook his head and laughed. It was a self-mocking laugh and Sarah could have cried out, for it made her heart tug with pain. What was _wrong _with her? Why couldn't she just take that last step?

Jareth spread his hands wide, a helpless gesture, and met her gaze. He said, "No, Precious. I merely made you a heart and gave it to you as a gift, without strings, without hidden agendas, without hope…"

_Wow, great job Sarah. You sure are one colossal bitch, _a voice in her mind said softly. It sounded smug. _How about insulting his manhood next? Maybe you can make him cry._

"Jareth, I'm sorry—"

Jareth shook his head. He clasped his hands behind his back and tipped his head up to gaze at the stars, as if he was searching for something in the night sky. He said, "No apologies, no grudges, and no pain. Not here, Sarah, not in my dream—in this place. Let's call a truce and, for this dream, simply enjoy each other's company without any expectations. Is it agreeable?"

"Yes." Sarah smiled. "Very much so."

Jareth looked at her and smiled affectionately, but then he seemed to think of something and his eyes glittered a little mischievously. "But, as it _is _my dream and you have invaded it—however happy I am that you are here—may I ask for one thing? One little wish?"

"Perhaps…" Sarah eyed him, not sure where he was going with this, especially since he'd just told her there'd be no _expectations_. She wasn't entirely sure if she was ready for that.

"Nothing you couldn't give, Precious," Jareth said. He held out a hand, his stance formal. "A dance is all I ask."

"A—a dance?" Sarah blinked, thrown off-guard. Maybe her mind was the one in the gutter, and why did she feel a little disappointed? "I—I guess so." She placed her hand in Jareth's outstretched one.

He pulled her close and Sarah felt a little tingle run through her body. A moment later, they were off, twirling and dancing across the hilltop with Jareth leading. His footing was graceful, he didn't stumble or hesitate, and to Sarah's delight, in his arms she was just as graceful. She heard material swish and felt it brush against her ankles and looked down. Her mouth opened silently in surprise when she saw that she was wearing the ballroom dress, with a few changes. The puff sleeves were gone and the corset top was sleeveless. The full skirts were still there and she had long, white gloves with silver sequins that ended at her elbows. She realized that without the puff sleeves, it showed off her figure more. _Jareth's definitely a letch, _she thought. She was tempted to touch her hair, to see if the silver netting was there, but she didn't want to let go of Jareth's hands.

Because she'd looked down to see the dress, she also noticed something else: they were floating in the sky. She'd been so caught up in the freeing feeling of dancing in Jareth's arms, and—_let's be honest here_—Jareth, himself, was quite a distraction. She hadn't noticed when their feet no longer touched the ground. Yet, she didn't feel an ounce of fear, even though they were now ten feet above the ground and every twirl seemed to take them higher.

"Don't worry, Precious. You won't fall," Jareth said, drawing Sarah's gaze back to him.

She smiled. "I know."

They danced for a few moments longer in silence. A few times, Jareth would execute such a complicated move that Sarah would hold her breath, sure she would stumble and ruin the momentum and beauty of it all, but every time Jareth would expertly lead her through it. She'd tip back her head, laughing with delight, and Jareth would watch her and grin. He twirled her out, so that she would snap back close to him, and her breath caught in her throat. Their eyes met and locked. _There's such a sad love, deep in your eyes…_

"Jareth—" Sarah began in a breathy whisper, but Jareth twirled her around again and the moment was lost. She had a feeling he had done it on purpose. When they were easily dancing again, she touched the owl feather coat and said, "Do you know, this was always my favorite."

"Indeed? I'll wear it more often for you, then." Again, their eyes met. Jareth was outlined by millions of twinkling stars, making his hair a bright golden flame in an otherwise black sky. Sarah's heart fluttered.

"Jareth—"

"No, Precious Thing, remember our agreement?"

"But—"

Jareth chuckled. "By all that is magical, but you make this difficult, Precious Thing! Do you know how much of a slave of yours I could become, Sarah, existing solely on your graces? For a kind word, a soft expression, a kiss—a little bit of hope—I would gladly crawl upon my belly over an open fire. You could have me within the palm of your hand and I would be forever grateful to simply know that I ruled your heart. When you were younger, I gladly played your villain, but now, I fear, I would not be satisfied with the role. Oh, Precious, let me rule you, if only in such a small place as your heart, and I will be your slave for all eternity…"

Sarah opened her mouth but no sound came out. Truthfully, she was shocked by the confession, and even Jareth looked a little surprised that he'd said all that, but then he'd squared his shoulders and met her gaze without flinching. He wasn't going to take the words back. Sarah felt something swell in her heart and break. A soft voice inside her head was whispering: _A million nights like this, dancing underneath a starry sky, with a man who will look at you like that._ And then Sarah answered the voice,_ Oh god, how could I resist him when he looks at me like that?_ Maybe that's what had scared her from the beginning—she couldn't resist. What had she told him before? She had been looking, and she had found him, and bam, now they were dancing…

"Jareth," she said, again, but in a very different tone. Jareth met her gaze.

Suddenly, the ground rumbled and the sky shook. The stars lost some of their twinkle. Jareth looked up, his mouth pressing into a thin line. Sarah gasped at the loud noise of the ground thundering underneath them. They were so high now, perhaps a hundred feet, but she could still _feel _the ground shake, as if the vibrations were jumping up and reaching them.

"What is it?" Sarah said, yelling over the rumbling noise so Jareth would hear her. Fear squeezed every other thought out of her mind.

"The dream is ending—one of us is waking up." Jareth turned back to her. He cupped her face with his hands; his thumbs stroked her skin at the corner of her eyes. "Don't forget, Precious."

Sarah shook her head. "I won't." Even though Jareth no longer held her, she didn't plummet. However, the rumbling was getting louder and the sky seemed to be shaking too. "Now what?"

Jareth smiled. "Now, the world falls down—and we wake up. Don't be afraid."

Sarah lifted her chin and gave him a smile. It was more bravado than actual bravery. What did she know about dream worlds? But, she trusted Jareth—and as soon as she thought that, she realized it was true.

"I'm not afraid," she said.

Jareth drew her close, wrapping his arms around her. The landscape was actually splintering and falling away, leaving only blackness behind. It was like paint flecking off or maybe glass breaking. Sarah watched, fascinated.

Finally, when only a little of the night sky remained, Jareth said, "Are you ready?"

And even though Sarah didn't know what he meant, she said, "Yes."

Jareth tipped back, dragging Sarah with him, and then they were falling. Wind whistled past, cold against her face. Sarah yelled from the exhilarating feeling of free-falling. Even though there was only darkness around them, she wasn't afraid, so she could enjoy the sensations. Jareth leaned close and whispered in her ear, "I love you, Precious Thing."

And then Sarah's world splintered and exploded.

# # # #

Sarah opened her eyes slowly, sleep still making her movements languid and sluggish. _Perfect, _she thought, smiling. As she slowly came back to herself, she realized that there was a weight over her torso. She shifted, brushing hair out of her eyes. Jareth's scent filled her nostrils.

He was sleeping in the bed, so close to her that all she could see was the linen of his black poet's shirt. He had put her between the wall and himself, and he was perched haphazardly on the edge of the bed. It hadn't really been made for two people to sleep side-by-side. Even though his sleeping position looked uncomfortable—after all, if he rolled to the left, he would fall out of the bed, and if he rolled to the right he would have squished her—his face was peaceful and a small smile touched his full lips. One arm was draped across her shoulders, while the other one was tucked under his head.

Jareth had asked her to remember, but the request seemed silly now. How could she forget? Her lips parted slightly as she watched Jareth sleep. Hesitantly, she reached out to brush her fingertips along his high cheekbones. Slowly, ready to pull back if his eyes opened, she stroked her thumb over his angled eyebrows and followed the flat plane of his forehead with the barest flicks of her fingertips. His eyelashes, dark despite his golden hair, flickered and he frowned slightly. Sarah smoothed the frown lines with her thumb and he sighed, contented. Her heart fluttered at the sound.

What would it have been like, living in this cabin for years upon years—maybe even centuries upon centuries—never knowing what would come next but fully expecting another day of monotonous existence? Knowing where Jareth came from made Sarah understand him more, but having Jareth look at her the way he had in the dream…and those last words, had she imagined those? Could one hallucinate in a dream? Oh, but how was she supposed to stay steadfast under such words and looks?

Sarah leaned forward and pressed her lips against his. It was a sweet, soft kiss; feather light, ready to break apart at a moment's notice. She brushed her lips against his again and again, each time something inside her throbbed and ached. It was funny, this all felt so _new_, like this was her first kiss—the emotions were just so raw and aching inside her. How had this happened? She'd been so determined to protect her heart from Jareth, how had he managed to scale every defense she built?

When she pulled back, Jareth's eyes were open. He looked at her and a small smile touched his lips.

"You don't need to look so damn triumphant," she said, frowning.

"Don't I? I feel like I've been scaling a mountain for a very long time and I've finally gotten to the summit."

Sarah tried to feel indignant, but she couldn't muster it. Despite the triumphant grin on Jareth's lips, his mismatched eyes were sparkling: warm Caribbean oceans and dark chocolate. She said, a teasing smile touching her own lips, "So is that how you see me? Something to 'scale'? Something to 'conquer'?"

Jareth's gaze turned dark and lusty. Sarah felt her own body respond. He said, his voice smooth like silk, "Oh no, Precious Thing, I haven't conquered you yet…" His voice was like a caress and Sarah shuddered. Then, his arms were around her and he'd pulled her against his body. His lips pressed against hers in a passionate, deep kiss. There was none of the simple, tentative sweetness from before—and no hesitation. This kiss was fiery and she met the onslaught happily, opening her mouth and deepening it, her tongue tracing along his lower lip, just like in the dream. Only now, she realized that her sleep-self's sensations were a little dampened. She was not only aware of Jareth's scent, but his taste, and the softness of his skin underneath her fingertips as she cupped his cheek. It made her nerves flame, her desire throbbing deep within her abdomen, her heart beating like a drum.

Jareth's tongue lightly touched hers and Sarah moaned. Jareth pushed his hips against hers and Sarah wrapped her legs around his waist. Now it was Jareth who moaned. He was already hard. She shuddered, her lips traveling to the edge of his jaw. She rained kisses along the curve of his jaw, the column of his neck; she nibbled just above the fabric of his shirt and loved how his breath turned ragged with need.

Jareth pushed her against the bed and moved over her, his hair falling around his face and curtaining them in a wash of gold. Sarah tugged off her gloves, tossing them away, and finally fulfilled a secret wish of hers that she'd had since she was fifteen: she buried her hands in his hair. It was surprisingly soft. She had assumed that his hair would be stiff with styling product and abuse—after all, the hairstyles he favored weren't natural at all—however it was silky smooth instead. She ran her fingers along it for a moment, relishing the texture. Jareth watched her, amused. Suddenly, she gripped his hair between her fingers and pulled him close, capturing his lips in a kiss. She arched her body against his and his hips jerked, pressing her against the bed.

He pulled away, kissing the corner of her lips, her eyelids, along the ridge of her cheekbone, the sensitive skin just before her ear. He kissed along her jaw and murmured against her skin, "Sarah, if you stop me now, I won't be able to forgive you."

Sarah chuckled. "Why the hell would I want you to stop?"

# # # #

Afterwards, they fell asleep curled around each other. Sarah was tucked against his chest. He held her there with an arm around her shoulders, as if he was frightened she'd disappear. Sarah fell asleep, warm with the afterglow.

Only once did she wake and the spot next to her was empty. She frowned and looked around the cabin, spotting Jareth by the window, wearing pants but nothing else. He had the pendant in his hand and he was tracing the edges with a fingertip as he stared out the window. Although he had a slight frown on his face, his expression was thoughtful.

"Jareth?"

He turned to her and smiled, moving back to the bed. He brushed hair off her forehead and said, "I'm here, Precious." He moved back on the bed, drawing her close, and kissed her softly. Already, her eyes were growing heavy again with sleep. "I'm here."

* * *

**Author's Notes:** I'd like to thank all the wonderful reviews. You guys had some brilliant advice. I wrote this chapter fully thinking I would not go M, but it kinda just happened. XD I decided not to force the story and let it happen. I guess Sarah and Jareth will not be denied. :D Anyway, I'm sorry this chapter is late but real life interjected. I hope it was worth the wait! Since it is past midnight in my corner of the world, and I'd like to go to sleep (and maybe dream of a shirtless Jareth? Hopefully? Yes?), I'm going to end the notes here.** Please read and review!** All suggestions/comments are greatly appreciated and make me go "SQUEE!" I'd also love to know how I did - I haven't written many smex scenes. ;)

Oh yes, a cookie to whoever can spot the _Pride & Prejudice_ quote. :P

**The Fine Print:** If by now it isn't obvious I don't own anything regarding the Labyrinth, except my own original characters, then...come on now.


	14. The Book

**Chapter Fourteen: The Book**

When Sarah awoke, Jareth wasn't there. She stretched and looked around, scratching the back of her neck for a moment. She felt glorious; she hadn't slept so well in a long while. She touched her chest, just above her heart, and felt it beating steadily.

She thought about last night. If someone had told her she'd end up making love to the Goblin King, she'd have laughed—and secretly indulged in some fantasies. She never believed she could become intimate with the Goblin King.

_And what about love? _She thought. She remembered the dream she'd had, and at the end Jareth had whispered in her ear…had that really happened? It had technically been a dream, even if they'd both experienced the same dream, could one take another person's word at face value in a dream?

Sarah's stomach growled, breaking into her thoughts. She threw back the covers, found her panties and bra. She'd just slid the bra on when the door opened, letting in a burst of hot air. Jareth walked in, a slight sheen of sweat glittering on his forehead and his hair ruffled from the hot, desert wind. He seemed surprised to see she was awake already, but then he grinned.

"Good morning, Precious Thing."

Ah, the morning after, always a time to do a bit of soul-searching. Sarah looked at Jareth. He wore simple, black pants and an embroidered waistcoat, which showed off the slight muscled definition in his arms. Sarah felt lust uncurl in the pit of her stomach. She licked her lips, unaware of the gesture, but Jareth followed it. His grin widened and there was triumph and pride in his gaze.

"Pleased with yourself?" Sarah asked, turning away. She slipped on her shirt.

"Yes." Jareth said it casually. "Are you hungry?"

"Yes." Sarah thought about putting her jeans back on, but in the end decided not to, yet. Maybe she was a bit of a tease and she never knew it before, or maybe she just liked the way Jareth kept glancing at her.

"One thing that's good about this cabin is that it always has what you need." Jareth opened a cabinet and pulled out a pot. A few moments later he had porridge cooking on the stove. They ate in silence, but it was a companionable silence. Sarah was shocked how comfortable she felt around him.

"What now?" she finally asked.

"I've been thinking about that," Jareth said. "Leander is strong, that's the problem. My magic is fragmented—bits of it are in you—and the Labyrinth is in upheaval so it's not listening to me like it should. I need more weapons, more magic."

She waited, but Jareth seemed to be deep in thought. She took the bowls to the sink and washed them out. When she turned the water off, she couldn't wait any longer, and said impatiently, "Well? So we need more magic…?"

"The book," Jareth said.

"Excuse me?"

"The _book_, Sarah," Jareth said. Although his voice was calm, his eyes were sparking with an emotion Sarah couldn't name. She moved back to the table and sat, trying to catch his gaze. "_The Labyrinth_, the book! It's nearly as old as I am and it's pure, untwisted Labyrinth magic."

"Okay, the book," Sarah said, slowly. "How can it help?"

"Relics of the Labyrinth are very powerful. The necklace, Leander's sword…" Jareth paused, leaning back. "If we use the relic's power to our advantage, we could tip the balance in our favor. Do you still have the book, Sarah?"

"Yes, of course. Actually, I always wondered, how did the book find me? What it said in there was true, it seems kind of silly just to have it floating around, telling people how to wish others away."

"Is it?" Jareth smiled. "The Underground is a place of magic, filled with mythical things like unicorns, dwarves, fairies. It requires belief to survive, Sarah. Even one person believing can be the difference between life and death for this world."

"Okay, belief, but the book told about other things…" Sarah thought about that line, the Goblin King loving a girl. Her heart fluttered, remembering the line from the book; remembering the dream; remembering how his kisses and caresses felt.

"The book tells the truth," Jareth said, simply. "It came into being by the Labyrinth, for self-preservation, but the things it spoke of were truths, perhaps even prophecy."

"Have you ever read the book?"

"No. It came into being in the Aboveground and was in a human's hands before I even knew it existed. Usually, it didn't last in one person's hands for very long. I think you're the longest owner."

There was something he wasn't telling her, she knew because he wasn't focusing on her face. He kept his expression neutral. She frowned. "Jareth? Is everything okay?"

He looked at her, smiled. "Yes, but we need that book, Sarah."

"It's in my apartment," Sarah said. Jareth met her eyes. "Are you serious? We're going to my _apartment? _Really? Can we do that?"

Jareth leaned closer, touching Sarah just above her heart. "Yes," he murmured softly, his face so close to her that the ends of his hair brushed her cheeks, as soft as a butterfly's wing. "Your heart is stronger, it's taken nicely to you. And I am fully healed."

Sarah felt a searing joy at the thought of going back home to the Aboveground, and then it dissolved into confusion when she looked at Jareth. What they had done together had been beautiful, she had never felt so wonderful, and she couldn't just leave him anymore. Plus, there was her heart. She touched where Jareth had touched a moment before, felt her heart pounding in her chest, and said, "How can I go back? I'll die, you said so."

Jareth hesitated, then took off his necklace and slipped the chain around her neck. She felt the heavy pendant settle between her breasts. She lifted the pendant in the palm of her hand and looked at the odd symbol. She had forgotten her gloves were off; immediately she saw the long stretch of time, like a road spanning into the distance, and on it the Goblin King walked. His head was tipped back, searching the skies. She felt loneliness, responsibility, determination—emotions that washed over her and made her shake. She blinked and the vision faded; the only thing she saw was Jareth's face, thoughtfully watching her.

_Loneliness, _she thought. _Every time I get a feeling of him, there's always loneliness. There was loneliness for Leander, too. The Labyrinth is so cruel._

Sarah leaned forward, cupping Jareth's cheek, and gently kissed him. He jerked, surprised. He hadn't been expecting it. Sure, they hadn't talked about what had happened between them, but had he expected that she would just push it aside? Forget it had happened? The thought made her smile mischievously. She wanted to pull off his clothes and run her hands over the hard, flat planes of his chest. She wanted to kiss him until she had no breath left; until her new heart pounded and echoed in her ears. She wanted to see his face when he called her name in pleasure, just like last night.

"Sarah." Jareth gently pulled away. "We have to finish this, before Leander's magic perverts everything in my Labyrinth. I must fight him, I must win."

Sarah frowned. Most guys she knew would have jumped for joy if presented with a second opportunity for an orgasm. But, Jareth did have a valid point. Leander was destroying Jareth's home, of course he had to deal with that. Plus, it might be a blessing in disguise; there was a lot for her to think about. What did she want to do? She remembered her reflection in the mirror wearing the Goblin Queen's clothes. Was that still an option? Did she want it to be?

_This isn't easy. It isn't like a relationship between two humans, _she thought. _It isn't "Hey, I like you, wanna be my boyfriend?" Jareth's the Goblin King. What do I feel? Do I love him? Can I love him—forever? _There would be no less, of course. It wasn't like she could break up with him and go back home. Jareth had said it, hadn't he? Her heart needed magic. Boy, it would be awkward if they fell out of love and she was stuck in the Underground. It wouldn't be like worrying she'd meet her ex in the supermarket. Jareth was the freaking _king_. And she would be vulnerable, maybe the only other human in the Underground. She'd have friends—Ludo, Hoggle, Sir Didymus, of course—but she couldn't go to the local bar or meet people at her library's book club if she got lonely.

Her heart clenched in panic. Leaving behind her home wouldn't be like moving to another country. It was so much more—everything was so much more. Her life was completely different now. She looked up and met the Goblin King's eyes and her mouth went dry. Oh god, what had she gotten herself into? Love was only the tip of the iceberg. What about her _life?_

"Sarah," Jareth said, reaching out to take her hand, "are you ready?"

Sarah took a few deep breaths, trying to calm herself.

"I know you get nauseous," Jareth said, grinning wickedly, "but for once, if you vomit, it'll only be in your own apartment on your own things."

Sarah blinked at him, surprised, then laughter bubbled out of her. The panic faded slightly. He couldn't have known what was really on her mind, but she was grateful he could joke, nonetheless. "I'm ready," she said. She thought, _Let's go home_, and then the cabin faded away.

* * *

_Author's Notes: Yes, I'm back! I'm not dead in a ditch somewhere (in case you were wondering) --_

*suddenly, Jareth appears, interupting*

Jareth: I did, actually, think you had disappeared. What took you so long to continue this story? For god's sake, woman, it's been more than a month!

CQ: I know! I know! Life took a sudden, hectic turn and I found myself unable to work on any extra projects I had --

Jareth: Plus, this chapter is so short! Not satisfying at all!

CQ: Hey now! I hadn't worked on this in nearly a month, so I decided to make this chapter short so I could get my groove back. Anyway, I'm already working on the _next_ chapter, which should be uploaded very soon. And what's more, this story is nearly complete! Just a few more chapters and you'll get your ending, Goblin King.

Jareth: About time! I do not like things half-finished.

CQ: Well, neither do I!

Jareth: Good!

CQ: Good!

*glares at each other, then CQ notices that Jareth is wearing a particularly nice set of leather, tight pants. Her eyes travel lower...*

CQ: You know, those are nice. I think I missed you, Goblin King. I think I missed you a lot.

Jareth: *sigh* Well, it's good to know everything has picked up right where it left off.

_Sorry for the long wait, folks. I was surprised at how much my stats jumped once I uploaded the last chapter, but then I love some good luvin' too. ;) Please keep the reviews, comments, suggestions coming. I'm thinking I'm going to be extremely naughty and upload a chapter of a new story, one I've been thinking about for quite a while with a more wicked (but still delicious) Jareth. I usually like to have 2 side-projects in the works, so I can bounce back and forth. If you haven't already, Author Alert me so that when that goes up, you'll know. I'm thinking it'll be sometime this week, maybe even later today. I'm estimating there's 3 more chapters of the Clockwork Heart left. Whoo! Exciting! (Well, for me, anyway, this IS my first fanfic)_

_See you all next time!_

**The Fine Print: **As always, I own nothing in regards to the Labyrinth except my own original characters.


	15. Goodbye

**Chapter Fifteen: Goodbye**

When Sarah's stomach quieted and she opened her eyes, she saw the familiar surroundings of her apartment and felt her heart thump with happiness. She had never felt so happy to see the place. Light was streaming through the windows and she turned to Jareth and said, "What day is it?"

Jareth said, "It has only been a few hours since you left. I did a little magic with the timing."

"Sunday." Which was good, no one would have missed her yet and she had the day off work. She could fully appreciate the time spent without worrying.

The pendant felt hot against her heart and she touched it, thoughtfully. Jareth moved away from her, looking around the apartment in interest. "I must confess, I've always wondered how you spent your days. I've never really explored any human's home."

Sarah's stomach rumbled. Now that she was in a safe haven, she suddenly realized how hungry she was—and how dirty. She'd been through mud, muck, water, and dirty castle basements; she needed a shower. For a moment, her stomach warred with her mind, but the desire to be clean finally won out. She said, "Just make yourself at home. The book is on the shelf over there," she indicated to the only bookshelf in the room. "I'm just going to take a shower, I'll be right back."

Jareth inclined his head. He had moved into the main room and picked up a snow globe that rested on her sofa table. She used it as a paper weight. Inside the globe was the Sleeping Beauty castle from Disneyland. Jareth gave it a shake and smiled, amused, as glitter fell around the little castle. Sarah watched him for a moment longer, then retreated to the bathroom. She took a blissfully hot shower and her mind wandered as she sponged her loofah along her body, thinking back over the events that had happened. If she counted the time she spent unconscious, it had been days, yet here it was just hours. So much had changed in that span of time; she was a completely different person.

In some ways, she felt like her life was spiraling out of control. There was a crazy, wannabe King out there who wanted to kill her and Jareth. In fact, she should be dead, but she wasn't because there was a clockwork heart in her chest. And then there was what had happened between her and Jareth. Plus, the fact that she had to stay in the Underground.

Sarah pressed a hand to her chest, hearing the _thump-thump thump-thump _of her heart. Jareth had given her a heart and had offered his own. And she was beginning to have a hard time imagining life without the Goblin King. Oh boy, she really liked life complicated, didn't she?

She turned off the water and dried herself quickly, and taking the robe off its usual hook, she slipped it on and left the bathroom. Jareth was seated at the small computer desk with her half-finished manuscript in his hands, his face expressionless. Sarah felt a flicker of alarm and she moved forward, thinking to snatch the manuscript away. "It's not finished yet! I'm still doing edits and reworking certain portions—"

Jareth easily kept the manuscript out of reach and when their eyes met, Sarah's movements slowed. He looked amused but bewildered. "Sarah, this is a story of the Underground."

"Yes. It's going to be my effort to get into publishing novels. If I'm lucky, it'll be popular enough that I can get a book deal and if _that _works out, I can write for a living," Sarah answered.

"You didn't mention this," Jareth said. He put the manuscript back on the desk. "You even have me in the story. I didn't know your time in the Labyrinth made such an impression."

"Of course it did! How many people can say they've really _seen _the fantastical? And I think I told you this before, but I never hated you."

"You described me as cruel and untouchable," Jareth said, thoughtfully.

"W-Well, that's how I saw you once upon a time," Sarah answered. "I know better now."

"Do you?" Jareth smiled, then suddenly turned to the photographs that Sarah had tacked to the wall just above her computer monitor. "Is that Toby?"

Sarah looked at the photograph he indicated. It showed a boy with dark hair, similar to her shade, and a gentle smile. Next to him was herself in a pale blue summer dress, smiling into the camera. They were sitting at the dining table and there was a cake proudly proclaiming Toby's 11th birthday.

"Yes."

"He has grown! And his hair has darkened."

"I was blonde when I was born, too."

Jareth laughed. "Did you have the same striped sleeping garment?"

Sarah smiled and shook her head.

"And who are these women?" Jareth pointed to another picture. This one showed Sarah laughing as, on one side of her, Deidre was making a funny face at the camera. On the other side of her, Tasha—who looked glamorous even in college after an all-nighter, with her golden hair tied into a high ponytail and her makeup carefully done—was rolling her eyes.

"That's Deidre," Sarah said, pointing, "and that's Tasha. They were my roommates in college. We still hang out a lot."

Jareth nodded, then he pointed to the photo next to it. This one was a candid shot of Matt. He didn't like having his picture taken. If he caught someone trying to do it, he would block his face with a hand or turn away, so all the pictures Sarah had of him were candid shots. In that photograph, he had been pointing at something. Sarah was next to him, looking where he was pointing, a quizzical expression on her face and her hands on her hips.

"That's Matt, he's a friend of mine, too. I met him after I graduated from college. I can't remember what we were doing when that was taken," Sarah said, bemused.

"Matt," Jareth murmured, thoughtfully. "Like the thing one uses to wipe ones feet?"

Sarah raised her eyebrows. He was goading her, trying to see her reaction, but she didn't take the bait. Instead, she smirked and said, "Matt as in short for 'Matthew.' You're not _jealous, _are you, Goblin King?"

"Of course not," Jareth said, huffily. He looked over the few other photographs pinned to the wall. There was one of Sarah in front of the main gates at Disneyland; another showed her with her family at Thanksgiving dinner; a third was a silly photograph Deidre took with Sarah asleep, her face pressed against a textbook and a pencil held limply in her hand. Jareth seemed particularly amused by that one, and he touched the edge of it with a finger before turning away.

"Perhaps," he said, "it's difficult for me to realize how much time has passed by in the blink of an eye. You've had a whole life here, Sarah. If our fates hadn't entwined because of Leander, who knows if we would have spoken ever again."

"I'd like to think we'd've met again," Sarah said, smiling.

Jareth's eyes swept over Sarah in her bathrobe, and although the bathrobe was fluffy and white and not particularly sexy, his mismatched eyes turned dark with desire and Sarah licked her suddenly dry lips. But Jareth's eyes fell on the pendant, resting above the bathrobe, and he held it in his palm.

"This worked better than I could have hoped," Jareth said. "As long as you didn't take it off, it seems to have enough power…to allow you to stay here." He looked up, suddenly somber, and met her gaze.

Sarah sucked in a breath, any ideas of fooling around gone as she considered what Jareth was saying— and perhaps offering her. A way out, just like he had promised. But, she moved away from him, towards her kitchenette, and said, "We still have Leander to deal with. All other decisions can wait."

Jareth hesitated, then nodded and began looking over her bookcase. While he did that, Sarah fixed herself a sandwich and ate it at the counter. Since the apartment was a studio, she could watch Jareth easily. He read the titles on the spines of the books to himself, his full lips moving slowly. Occasionally, he would slide a book out and look at it, maybe flip through a few pages. He smiled at _The Faerie Queen_ and Sarah's omnibus of Shakespearean plays, and he raised his eyebrows at the few trashy romance novels she had gathered. Finally, he took out a small book with a familiar, red cover and Sarah's heart picked up speed as she recognized it instantly. It was the book that had started everything, had made her dream about a labyrinth filled with fantastical adventures and magical creatures—and the ruler at its heart.

"I wonder what my life would have been like without it," Sarah said, and for a moment she hadn't realized she'd spoken the thought out loud, but by the half-amused, half-sad expression on Jareth's face, she realized that he had heard her and she blushed.

"Ignorance gives one a large range of probabilities," Jareth answered, running his fingers along it. "But I think it would have been a simpler life, and perhaps one you'd've enjoyed equally, but I know _I _would have missed knowing you."

Sarah gasped, her heart pounding, and Jareth looked up to meet her eyes.

"You always were the best to talk to, even to argue with, and you always managed to challenge me," Jareth answered. He opened the book and glanced through the pages. "Actually, the reason the goblins could visit you, despite your proclaiming that the Labyrinth—and myself—had 'no power' over you is this book? It created a connection between you and the Labyrinth, because it's originally made by the Labyrinth itself. And despite the fact that the Labyrinth made it, and perhaps made myself, do you know this is the first time I've actually held this book and opened it?"

Sarah blinked, the change of subject catching her off balance. "You mentioned something…" She trailed off, walking out of the kitchenette and towards him.

Jareth glanced up and then back at the book. "Odd to think I don't actually know what it says…" He stopped, his eyes widening, and Sarah knew exactly which part he was on. His lips parted and she watched as they silently mouthed the words, as he read them to himself, and Sarah could see the yellowing pages of the book—it was an old book, far older than she'd ever known—and the words written with black, plain typeface in her mind's eye:

_But what no one knew is that the king of the goblins had fallen in love with the girl, and he had given her certain powers._

Jareth looked up and met her gaze again and his eyes were wide with shock. She gave an uncertain smile and reached out to touch him, but he drew back. "You knew, then? All along?" he said.

"No! Not at all," Sarah said, "I thought it was just a _book_, even after the Labyrinth. I mean, it also says, 'the baby was a spoiled child, and wanted everything to himself, and the young girl was practically a slave' and that wasn't true, that was just my warped perception agreeing with a story! I thought this book was just a fairytale and if it happened to me, well, if one thing was wrong in it then other things could wrong as well."

Jareth just gave a little laugh and said, "Ironic that I hid it for so long and here it is, plainly written and you've had this book all along."

Sarah felt horrible and didn't know why she felt horrible, but the self-deprecating expression on Jareth's face was breaking her heart, and the worst thing was that when she tried to say the words—_"You're not alone, you know, I love you too"_—they got stuck in her throat. What was wrong with her? Yes, she'd made love to the Goblin King, but was she prepared to be with him _forever? _No matter how one cut it, forever was a long time. Not only that, but Jareth had given her a way out of the Underground; he'd offered her his necklace. After Leander was dead, Sarah could decide to stay here. If she was going to say the words, she wanted to make absolutely sure she meant them with every fiber of her being.

So, instead of saying anything at all, Sarah simply wrapped her arms around the Goblin King and pressed her body against his. He stiffened momentarily and then relaxed and she felt his arms steal around her. He pulled her closer, their bodies flush against one another, and Sarah could smell that exotic, musky scent of him as she pressed her face against his shoulder. They stood there, holding each other, for what seemed like forever but was only a few minutes before Jareth sighed and pulled back.

"Precious, as much as I wish this moment could continue its _natural_ course," and at this, Jareth grinned mischievously and his voice dripped with innuendo, "there is still Leander."

"Yes," Sarah said, reluctantly, and she took a step back.

Jareth was silent for a moment, and then he cupped Sarah's cheek and said, "You've helped me out immensely, Sarah. I find myself less angry than I should be that some of my powers have gone to you, particularly the power of dreams, that one will prove useful for you."

Sarah frowned. "What do you mean?"

Jareth said, "All things one has forgotten scream for help in dreams."

"What—?" Sarah's eyes widened as she looked at Jareth. He was a few steps away from her now, closer to her desk, and he was holding the red book. "No…"

Jareth smiled, gently, knowing that Sarah had figured out what he meant to do, and said, "Just as those words are in this book, I meant them when I said them while we dreamed. My heart goes where you go, Sarah."

"No! Don't, Jareth!" Sarah took a step and Jareth matched it, taking a step back so the distance remained.

"I'm sorry, Precious. If I win—_when _I win—I'll come back for you."

"NO!" Sarah leapt forward, thinking to grab him so that he couldn't leave without taking her with him, but by the time she'd closed in the space between them, Jareth was already gone and the glitter from his departure was already floating to the ground and settling into the carpet. Sarah stared at the glittery colors for a moment, her mind numb with shock, and then anger washed over her: anger at Jareth, for leaving her behind, and anger at herself for not seeing the trick beforehand.

"_It created a connected between you and the Labyrinth," _Jareth had said, and Sarah's eyes widened as things began to fit into place.

He had been telling her that the red book would have allowed her to travel to the Labyrinth, just as the goblins traveled to her! And now, with it gone, she had no way to get there—and the goblins couldn't visit her as they had done before! She was stuck here, waiting for Jareth…and if he defeated Leander…

Sarah sank onto the futon and buried her head in her hands. How could he leave her behind? She would have fought by his side; she would have tried to help in any way she could! Yes, she had been hurt by Leander, but hadn't she saved Jareth's life as well?

Jareth's pendant brushed against the back of Sarah's arm and she gripped the pendant so hard the edges cut into her palm. _Oh god, _Sarah thought, her eyes widening. _He left this behind—for me! To protect me, he left me in the Aboveground, and to keep my heart beating, he left behind the pendant! _What had Jareth said?

"_Leander is strong, that's the problem. My magic is fragmented—bits of it are in you—and the Labyrinth is in upheaval so it's not listening to me like it should. I need more weapons, more magic."_

If that was true, he'd left one behind with her. Not only that, but his magic was still fragmented—and Leander was not; he had all his weapons, and his magic. Sarah closed her eyes, feeling fear grip her clockwork heart.

"Oh Jareth," she whispered, "how can you win against someone who's your equal—made to be your replacement—when you don't have every weapon at your disposal? I'm not worth the sacrifice!"

* * *

**Author's Notes:** ...Bummer for Sarah.

OK, so here's the deal with my updating...I suck. Yeah, that's about the sum-up. Specifically, I was updating "Seeded Dreams" quite a bit for a while, and as a result this story got behind. And then this chapter gave me a whole lot more trouble than it should have, and then November came and I was doing Nanowrimo (National Novel Writing Month) so I put aside all my fanfics for that month...although I did manage to get an update for "Bound and Delivered" and yes...basically, I have not been showing "The Clockwork Heart" the love it deserves. However, I intend to rectify that! So stay tuned my wonderful readers, for the end is near! :D

In case you were wondering, there were two quotes in this chapter, both mentioned by Jareth:

"Ignorance gives one a large range of probabilities." - George Eliot, _Daniel Deronda_

"All things one has forgotten scream for help in dreams." - Elias Canetti, _Die Provinz der Menschen_

Finally, a brief shout-out to a few people:

**Lonely27: **Sorry for the delay but hope it was worth the wait!

**CoffeeKris:** Oh, I assure you, I was snickering as well. ;)

**Leannapotter:** While I appreciate the offer, and chocolate is...well...chocolate...it just isn't a substitute for yummy Goblin King-ness. :D

In the interest of time (I've yakked quite a bit), I will end here. However, **please review**! I love knowing what you guys think, so any comments/questions/suggestions are welcome and relished with a great big helping of squee. :)

**The Fine Print:** As always, besides my original characters, I own nothing in regards to _The Labyrinth_.


End file.
